Undertale: Emergence
by A Lost Cookie
Summary: It took more than four-hundred resets, each lasting almost a week, for Frisk to achieve her Happiest Ending. Now, the Monsters have left the Underground, and she is their ambassador to humanity. How will that role change as time goes on? How will Frisk, and those she cares for, change through time? And how will everyone react as Frisk's past reaches out to drag her back?
1. Prologue: Rebirth of a Dreemurr

**WARNING!**

 **THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS REGARDING THE PACIFIST AND TRUE PACIFIST PLAYTHROUGHS OF THE GAME 'UNDERTALE.' IF YOU HAVE NOT YET COMPLETED THE GAME ON THOSE TWO PLAYTHROUGHS, PLEASE STOP READING NOW AND GO PLAY THEM THROUGH. OTHERWISE, PLEASE ENJOY!**

The world warped, smeared, and tore around the child, reality shrieking as it came apart once again. It had taken them so long to get to this point, they reflected with something of a wry smile. How many times had they watched that sunset come apart under the effects of a reset, seen the brief expressions of alarm on their friends' faces before they vanished as well, the world becoming a smear of colors that ultimately all faded to black once again? How many times had their eyes opened to gaze up at the circular entrance into the Underground, the hole they had fallen from, shining down on the flowers that had broken their fall?

Too many times was one answer they came up with; too many times had they seen this view again, the soreness all over their body of having fallen too far. Too many times had they sat up, their **Determination** driving them onward even as a growing part of their mind told them how fruitless, how utterly useless it was going to be to keep trying because there was no solution to the problem they kept trying to solve. But now they were finally able to awaken on that carpet of golden flowers, turn their eyes towards the hole in the ceiling, and grin fiercely. It had taken so very long, they thought, but they had finally done it... With help. A lot of help.

Climbing to their feet, they patted themselves free of the petals that clung to them, then took a long, deep breath. Their hand rose to their chest, clutching at the fabric of their baggy sweater, where she felt her heart beating powerfully, full of life and energy. Then they turned their eyes to the path into the ruins, **Determination** turning the butterflies in her stomach into confidence. Things had been hard until now, they knew that well. But this was going to be their last reset, their last time in the ruins with the Monsters locked within. They took a breath, one last steadying of nerves, and stepped forward onto their path...

The door rumbled closed behind them, but didn't slam shut. Snow crunched underfoot, crushed by their boots. A chill ran through their body as the snowy wind picked up, and out of the corner of their eye, they saw the camera that Alphys had always watched. Smiling, they waved towards it. As if on cue, a heavy weight settled onto their shoulders, a faintly berry-like scent surrounding them. Jumping a bit in surprise, they turned, coming face-to-face with Sans the skeleton. "Hey, kiddo," he said, his trademark grin in place. "So this is it, huh?"

It had taken a long time for them to change, taken almost a hundred resets before they dared. But that had been so very long ago. Now, it was second nature. Smiling, they stepped forward and wrapped their arms around Sans's shoulders. "This is it," they said, their voice clear as crystal in the snowy forest air. "Thank you for everything so far, Sans."

"It was the least I could do, kid," He said, ruffling their hair playfully. "After all, you broke us all free, what, three hundred times? Four? I mean, sure, most of that was because we couldn't just sit and try and figure this out without breaking us out, but you still did it. I don't even want to think of how many times you, y'know... Died doin' it. With you workin' that hard... Well, I just couldn't bring myself to not care anymore. So, you got it all taken care of?"

Frisk nodded, turning their gaze to the path they had to take. To Papyrus, the first of their friends outside the ruins, then onward to all the other places, as well. All the other friends that awaited them. Would any of them have any inkling of how important this time was, this reset above all the others? Did they have any idea that, finally, all their years of being trapped and locked away would be over, for good? They couldn't, and yet since that first trip back, they had remembered parts, bits and pieces... And Sans had remembered everything. And he most certainly hadn't been happy to learn that Frisk had been why he couldn't enjoy that happy ending.

But ultimately, he had understood. Some eight or nine resets later, yes, but he'd understood. And he'd finally offered to help. And now, so many resets later, they stood at the exit from the Ruins, giving Alphys one hell of an unusual show. "You don't have to hide that you know me anymore?" Frisk asked after a few moments, slipping their arms through the sleeves of the jacket he'd settled onto their shoulders. To their surprise, it fit really well; it was blue, just like his own jacket, but was cut for a smaller build. The hood had white fur lining it, and if they had to guess, that fur was from the Annoying Dog. It was warm, remarkably so, and it was also new; never had they been given something for the cold before.

"Nah," he said with a shrug, glancing at the camera. "After all, we started bringing Alphys into things these last few dozen resets so we could use her lab. If I'm here, she knows things are serious enough that she should watch carefully. Ah, by the way, Alphys! I'll stop by after me 'n the human here visit Grillby's, alright? So for now, let's, ah, keep Undyne out of things, okay?" There wasn't a response, of course, but Frisk couldn't help but wonder how the scientist was reacting, all the way over in Hotland. Then they nodded, looking at Sans. "Shouldn't we meet up with your brother again? You know, make sure things work out the right way?"

"We will," Sans assured them, patting their shoulder. "But you got out early this time; almost an hour ahead of time. Grillbz is the only one there right now, and he promised to keep the doors locked until we've had breakfast. Told him it was vital to the Monsters leaving the Underground once and for all. Which isn't a lie; remember when you just forgot to eat, and almost passed out fighting Flowey? Y'gotta eat well, kid."

"I remember," they said with a shiver; it had been a very, very unpleasant experience. "Well, if we have the time, I guess we can eat something. But what are we going to eat?" They turned their curious gaze on the skeleton, who just shrugged.

"How about some burg?" He offered. " It's more filling, and after all, it'd be terrible if you died this time; we'd have to play ketchup all over again."

Frisk groaned, then reached out and took his hand in their own. "Well, I'm not going to complain about a good burger," They said, looking him dead in the eye. "After all, you could use a bit of meat on your bones."

Sans stared back at them for several moments, then laughed aloud and stepped forward. They were surrounded in white light for just a moment, and when it faded, they were strolling up to the bar of Grillby's, the place strange without anyone in it. But it still felt oddly comfortable, with Grillby standing behind the counter as he always was. "Grillbz! A double order of Burg. Today's a big day!"

Grillby nodded silently and turned to make his way into the back, leaving the pair alone. Both climbed onto a stool to wait, but neither spoke for several moments. When the silence was finally broken, it was Sans who broke it, his voice almost... Fragile. The tone drew Frisk's immediate concern, but they didn't interrupt him as he voiced his concern. "So... This is really it, right? I mean... It's been so long. It feels like- No, it HAS been years. So many times seein' the sun, only to get dragged back down here. And we're the only ones who remember. If I hadn't gone with ya into that place you go to, that Save room, I'd have forgotten everything with that last one. Nah, that ain't true... If you hadn't brought me along, I'd have forgotten... But that means you mean it, right? You really mean for this to be the last time... Right?"

The skeleton's uncertainty broke their heart. Turning on their stool, they leaned across the intervening space and wrapped their arms around him, hugging the startled skeleton as tightly as their little body could manage. "I really mean it, Sans," They said, their tone soft. "I really, really mean for this to be the last time we have to be down here against our wills. When the barrier breaks again, it will never go up again. The moment it's gone, I'll save right there, and I'll never do a full or True reset ever again. It's almost over, Sans."

Sans's arms went around their body, hugging tight. "Thanks, kid," he whispered, pressing his face into their auburn hair. They stayed like that until the thud of ceramic on wood drew their attention to Grillby's return. They pulled away, both blushing their respective colors in embarrassment. Sans held up a ketchup bottle, grinning at them. "Want some ketchup?" He offered.

Smiling in reply, they reached out and took the ketchup from him. Then they gave him a look as they tightened down the top before squirting some ketchup on their burger and replacing the bun. "Not going to catch me with that every time," they said with a laugh, even as Sans gave a shrug and a grin.

"Had to try. After all, it's almost over. But I'll get ya eventually; after all, I've got a real ton of jokes to play on you. A skele-ton of 'em." He tossed back his own container of ketchup even as Frisk groaned into their burger. When they were finished, the Skeleton stood and offered his hand. "C'mon, kid; let's go see Paps."

Frisk glanced at him, then smiled and took his hand.

Frisk felt like they were being torn apart, their atoms shredded apart one at a time. Rainbow energy flowed around them, shredding at their very substance, at their soul. Just as Sans had warned, they were fragile up to this very point. Until now, even one light hit had been enough to shatter them into a dozen pieces. But now, they could feel the heat of this energy surrounding their soul, but as with every other time they'd fought this, their greatest foe, their soul had refused to be destroyed. And it was reforged, becoming complete once again. Once again, parts that had been damaged almost ten full resets previously became whole, forged in the heat of their foe's strongest attack. Just as the legends told, it was the Angel that would shatter the barrier forever. And as if in line with that legend, it was the Angel that made them whole once again.

So many thought that they were the Angel, but they knew differently. The Prince, Asriel Dreemurr, was the Angel of the prophecy. They were simply the last human, the catalyst for all the events that would lead to the freedom of Monsters everywhere. But he would do so by sacrificing himself; that was how it had always gone. Perhaps by surrendering their own existence, Frisk might give him a life, but they had come across another solution before being pushed to that.

Their arms went around the little goat-boy, the Pwqa, and they squeezed. "I- I never want to let go," Asriel said sadly. The barrier was broken; had they actually missed that? Perhaps; despite the finality of this actual moment, they'd experienced it so many times that it was almost normal. "Frisk... Just one last thing," he said as they separated. "Take care of mom and dad for me, okay?"

"Take care of them yourself," Frisk said as Asriel turned to walk away. Their hand went to their chest, a bright rainbow light pouring out from between their fingers. Asriel turned as Frisk rushed closer, a frown on his face. The frown turned to a look of shock as Frisk drew back, then lunged forward, slamming the rainbow light into his chest. Then the world went white around them...

Frisk stood on the cliff, listening to the excited chatter of their friends around them. But they don't speak; though Sans and Papyrus talked about the sun, they stand mute. It was new to most of them, but of course, they sometimes forgot Frisk is human. Besides, they've heard everything before. So many times, just before so many resets.

They feel tears stinging their eyes. They'd never cried here before; They'd always smiled just like they did the first time, so happy to see their friends so happy. But now, they were close to tears. But not because they were sad, no. They'd never been this relieved, this happy for something to finally, finally be over. They wondered how many times they'd stood here, listening to all this talk, their hand hovering over the reset button. They wondered how many times, after those first few, that Sans watched them, sad but understanding. They wondered how long they'd been down there. What was seven days multiplied by four-hundred weeks?

They couldn't help themselves, the tears slipping down their cheeks. It was finally over, they find themselves thinking. They'd saved everyone they could. Finally, they'd saved everyone; their Determination paid off. It had taken so very, very long, so many tries. But they weren't going to leave even a single monster behind. Even one who had put them through everything he had.

They felt him come out of the underground behind them, feeling the resonance, but they don't turn. The others don't know, nobody but Sans; after all, they'd finally gained the way to save him last reset. The monsters didn't remember that they were missing little pieces of their souls. Sans remembered; they saw the moment he realized He was behind them all. But he didn't turn. Papyrus ran off, and Sans walked away in the opposite direction, doing as he did and watching from elsewhere. Undyne and Alphys rushed off, apparently without realizing that the group had gained another member. It was just Frisk, Toriel, Asgore, and Him. Asgore turned to Frisk, about to make the offer, but he stopped when he saw their tears. Toriel's body was hiding Him from him.

"Human- Frisk... What is wrong?"

It would have been only a matter of a few seconds before Toriel realized something was up. But His hand found their shoulder first; warm and soft, just like the many, many times they've hugged him. Frisk turned towards the King and Queen, then past them, looking behind them. He was standing there, a little smile on his face.

"Frisk, we're all here now. Don't you have anything better to do?" But he had tears in his eyes, too. Toriel spun in place at his voice, Asgore staggering to the side to see him. Frisk tried to muster a smile for him, but they couldn't. Instead, they lunged forward, and for once, he was the one comforting them. They clung to him and sobbed, even as His parents encircled him, crying themselves.

Clinging and crying, they weren't even really sure he would hear them over everything else happening, but they spoke anyway, their voice a choked whisper. "Welcome home, Asriel," They said, unable to do more than hope he heard them. They felt him squeeze just a bit tighter, heard his voice whisper near their ear.

"Welcome home, Frisk."

He'd heard them.

A/N: Hey everyone! Yeah, I've been gone for a looong time. But I'm back, and hopefully, this little bit of writing is enough of a temptation to get some people interested in the story! Honestly, this story is going to continue whether I post updates to it or not; you see, this story is actually meant to be a prequel to a story set about four years after the ending of Undertale. My intent is to write up to about four months prior to that story, then switch over to giving you guys that story as a continuation. That being said, I only intend to continue posting this while there's any kind of interest. Even a handful of views and a comment per chapter is enough to let me know there's interest. I honestly hope you all enjoy reading what I put out.

Also, this story may be co-authored by a friend of mine. It's not certain, as he's not certain of what he would write about, but if so, then we would work out which chapters each would write, and each of us would take a character. In my case, anything I write will likely center on Frisk, while anything he writes is likely to center on his interpretation of a maturing Asriel. However, there's no guarantee that this will happen, and if it does, we have no idea of the form this story will take through that cooperation

I have no set timetable on when I'll release more of this story, but I'm hoping to put out Chapter One within the week, if work doesn't eat me alive in the interim. Ultimately, as I said before, how much I actually make public will depend heavily on the interest shown. I'll try and put out three or four actual chapters besides this one before deciding whether or not to continue, but all I can actually promise is Chapter One. In the meanwhile, I hope every one of you has a wonderful day, and I look forward to any feedback you guys and girls might provide. Take care, stay safe, and above all, **Stay Determined!**

~Cookie


	2. Chapter 1: Frisk's New Beginning

Very few people tended to think past the immediate. The month, the week, the day, the hour; when one was fighting for their life, or the lives of their loved ones, very few people thought past the immediacy to see the long-term. Even after working at something for the equivalent of seven years, Frisk was someone who had similarly failed to think past the 'immediate' goal of giving Asriel a new soul, of giving him a life outside of the underground, and a life outside of being an emotionless flower. So when she'd finally stepped onto that cliff for the last time, staring at the sunset even as the emotional Pwqa family behind her spoke of what had happened, of the hows and whys, she'd been overwhelmed once more. Overwhelmed with the realization that now, finally, they had the opportunity to see what would come next, and overwhelmed with all the possibilities.

She didn't know how long she'd stood there, her mind spinning with options and choices, before that soft hand settled on her shoulder again. She'd jumped, forgetting in the flurry of thoughts that she wasn't alone, and turned those signature narrowed eyes on Asriel, who was staring past her at the sun. "The last time I saw this sky," he said softly, his tone distant as he lost himself in memories, "I had Chara in my arms. We had- We had a plan to free the Monsters... Just one soul to pass the gate, then six more to break it forever. One life given willingly, and six from the things that had imprisoned us, and our people would finally have real hope again." He turned sad eyes on her now, the discs of icy blue seeming too big. "But I couldn't do it then... I couldn't."

"You did it in the end, though," she said after it was clear he wasn't going to keep talking. She smiled, her arm going around his shoulders and pulling him against her side. "You were the angel that freed your people, Asriel," she said with a soft laugh. "I'm just the fallen angel that got you there. C'mon," she added, turning to look at the two adults who were watching them as though they were actual angels. Maybe they were; Asriel had certainly been dead already, and as for Frisk... Well, she'd been dead way, way too many times. "Asgore," she called, making the taller Pwqa jump. "You were going to ask me something...?"

The goat looked confused for several seconds before his expression cleared, nodding a little. "Ah, y-yes... I, uh, I was going to ask if you would become the ambassador to humanity for us... After all, you're human, and-"

Frisk raised her hand, silencing the king of the Underground with a gentle smile. "I understand, I really do." She paused, turning her gaze almost invisibly to Toriel. "Mom? Do you think I should?"

Toriel blinked, gazing at the two children for several seconds. When she spoke, however, her voice held no hesitation. "I think, my child, that if it is what you want to do, then you would be the best person to do it." She smiled that gentle smile of hers.

Frisk breathed a soft sigh, her eyes actually closing for several seconds. Then she nodded, and when her eyes opened, they didn't open to the slits that they had been in since her fall into the Underground. They opened fully, revealing warm, deep butterscotch-colored hues. "I'll be your Ambassador, if you think I'm good enough," she said with a little smile, looking between the three. "Just so long as you all help me. I couldn't have done any of this alone, so I know I can't do this alone."

She felt Asriel's arm go around her shoulder, hugging her against his side, even as Toriel and Asgore smiled, their smiles stretching almost impossibly wide. They were realizing that suddenly, they had their family back. Maybe not the same people; Frisk certainly wasn't Chara, and though she'd tried a time or two, she couldn't manage Chara's 'creepy look.' But a family, at least, a family that had been broken apart. Maybe, with time, Toriel would find it in her heart to forgive Asgore. Then, suddenly, Asriel had her hand wrapped in his and was pulling her along. "C'mon, Frisk!" He exclaimed with a laugh. "We can't let Papyrus meet the humans first!"

She laughed as she followed along, the two adults following behind at a walk.

It took almost six months for the Monsters to move out of the Underground. They were a hard six months, with everyone pitching in to build a little town on the slopes of Mount Ebott. That town had grown with astonishing speed; wires leading from the Underground ensured that this new home of the Monsters would have power, and by the time the last month had ended, the town had grown to a small city.

Toriel was the ruler of the Monsters now, and had even named the monster's new home: The city of Hope, the new capital of the Nation of Monsters. But while she spent some time as ruler, more often she was overseeing the construction and furnishing of Hope's school. Asgore helped her when he could, standing next to her as close as she'd allow and doing all he could to make things easier on them both. Once the school had been built, he'd become the gardener, and as though the skeleton had proven prophetic (or otherwise, simply very, very tenacious), he had cut several bushes into the shape of Papyrus's head right near the entrance.

As she walked past one of those bushes, Frisk reached out and brushed her fingers across the leaves with a smile. Papyrus had become the leader of the Royal Guard after Undyne retired, and by all accounts he'd been doing well. Though, without any real threats to Asgore or Toriel, it really only meant that he'd been thinking up puzzles for children to work through, keeping the youth of the Monsters from becoming restless. Sans had been his usual self, taking on a number of jobs only to spend much of his time slacking off.

Frisk looked up as she passed the bush, hearing the familiar patter of running feet behind her. She turned, her arm stretching out just in time to catch MK's yellow form as he tripped over his own feet, falling headlong against her arm. She let out a yelp of surprise, the sudden weight almost taking her to the ground with him, but she managed to retain her footing, and she steadied him onto his own feet.

"Yo, thanks!" He exclaimed, as excitable as ever, bouncing a bit in place. "Yo, are you ready for our first day of school on the surface?! I can't believe we got such a long break!" He stopped, immediately switching onto a new train of thought. "Oh, hey, did you hear?! I hear that the queen's going to be one of our teachers! Can you believe it?"

Frisk laughed, patting his back carefully. "It's true," she said before motioning towards the front door to the school. There, Toriel stood next to the door, that gentle smile of hers on her face as she greeted the children entering the school. When she spotted Frisk and MK, she waved to them. "She's always wanted to be a teacher," Frisk confided in him, giggling softly. "Now she finally gets to do what she has always wanted."

"Yo, that's so cool! C'mon, let's go! I hear Papyrus is going to show up later!" And he was off, racing past Toriel and into the school beyond. Laughing to herself at his excitement, Frisk made her way over to Toriel, her arms going around the older woman's waist.

"Hello, my child," she greeted Frisk, getting down on one knee to give Frisk a big, proper hug. "Are you ready for your first day?" She asked, pulling back after a moment to look at Frisk with some concern. "I remember you told me you hadn't been to school often. If you need any help..."

"I'll ask," Frisk assured her goat mother, leaning in to kiss her furry cheek. "Don't worry; I learned a lot while I was underground. I think I can keep up with everyone." She smiled and took a step back, looking Toriel over a bit more closely. She was still dressed in her royal robes, but she actually wore a crown now, and a digital watch sat on her left wrist. She looked... Appropriate, somehow, especially with the smudge of flour near her left hip.

She looked down at herself this time, dressed in clothing that actually fit her, compared to the clothing she'd worn when she'd fallen into the underground; she wore boots, courtesy of Undyne of course, with a pair of shorts over a pair of thick tights to keep her warm in the chill mountain air. She had a shirt modeled after the sweater she'd worn in the underground, baby blue with violet stripes around the torso and the arms. And over it, she wore the jacket she'd been given by Sans, the darker blue so reminiscent of the blue jacket that Sans had worn. The jacket she'd grown very familiar with over the course of their cooperation.

"You look fine, my child," Toriel said gently, leaning in to kiss Frisk's brow with a smile. "Now go inside, would you? It's only ten minutes before school starts." Nodding, Frisk bid her mother farewell and made her way inside.

She'd helped design the building, so she knew where everything was pretty much off the top of her head; it had been built quickly, but even quickly meant months of helping on the same layout, of walking the halls. She didn't need to follow the helpful signs that had been put up; her feet carried her through the hallways almost instinctively while her mind rolled across other thoughts.

Mom had actually asked about how Frisk had Saved Asriel, once. At the time, she hadn't known how to respond to Toriel's question, so she'd just shrugged and said "I was determined." But she knew the truth, at least part of it; it had taken years, after all. Sans had been the one to hit upon the idea of using the Gaster Blaster; the way he described it, it was a weapon designed by someone named Gaster that struck the soul, rather than the body.

If it hit the soul, he wondered, did that mean it could break pieces off the soul without breaking the soul as a whole? Like a glancing blow chipping pieces off of a large stone, could they direct the Blaster shot in just such a way to chip a little piece of the soul off? But that idea, at least at first, had proven unusable; Monster souls had too little Determination to remain after being chipped from the whole.

It was Frisk who first tried taking a piece of a soul into their own body, nourishing it with her own Determination. But even that failed at first; her soul simply absorbed the piece into itself, and after the reset it was returned to its actual owner. So that was a bust; it took so many resets before the idea occurred to Frisk. She remembered that conversation, clearly.

"What if we chipped a piece of _my_ soul off, first? Could we do that and keep it in me without the two combining?"

Sans had looked startled, and immediately suggested bringing Alphys in on things. It had taken some tries, but when she finally put her mind to the task, she'd found a way.

"You have way more Determination than any of the other humans," she'd said. "So even without a big piece of your soul, I think you could live just like normal... Just, without these 'resets' you've told me about. But we shouldn't need a big piece to sustain the other pieces. The problem is keeping your soul from recombining if they're both in you... I don't think we could do it for long. Maybe..."

It had taken two more resets after that, with Sans saving all their research through some method at his home, before Alphys had come up with some kind of injection. "This will keep your body from absorbing the other soul, but it won't last long. Maybe only a week, with a couple days extra at the end."

"What about the other souls, though?" She'd asked, distraught. "We need a full soul for him. If we can't..."

"We have containers that can hold souls," Sans had said, sitting nearby. "I can hold onto them between Resets. Really, there's only two problems. The first is the amount of power needed; if you don't want them falling apart once they're in petal-boy, you'll need more than just a little piece of your own soul. The soul will have to be almost half human to hold all the other little pieces together and give 'em a chance to become one big soul."

"The human Souls," Frisk said abruptly, eyes widening.

Sans nodded. "We'll see. The other problem is you, Frisk. If we break a piece of your soul off, you're going to have a big, big weak point. If anything hits that, you'll shatter and reset to your last save point. Heh, you'd be like me: only good for one hit."

Frisk had shrugged. "Then I'll ask the other souls if they can help." And so they'd gone, chipping that first piece off of Frisk's soul, and tucking it into a jar-like container, and quickly joining it with a little piece from Alphys's soul, as well. Then, over the course of ten resets, Sans and Frisk had gathered pieces from every Monster in the underground, little shards and chips that slowly formed half of the soul, all sustained by Frisk's Determination.

They'd only gotten to the Human souls in the last Reset, and Frisk had been shocked at how readily they seemed to agree. She'd seen them act with the kind of selflessness she'd come to associate with the humans who'd once been their bodies, but she hadn't expected near immediate acceptance. The addition of those pieces to the soul in the Jar was all it took; the seven pieces of the Human souls fused together into a beautiful rainbow of light, the light seeping out of the spaces between the other chips and acting like a kind of mortar.

They'd also offered up tiny pieces of themselves to Frisk, though she'd refused to ask; as the reset hit, she'd known that they would be with her from now on. For now, they acted the same way as they did in Asriel's soul, holding everything together but not really combining it. It would take time, or one heck of a lot of energy, to forge them together.

She knew her own soul would reforge during her last battle with Asriel; that final attack he launched at her was more than enough to do the work. But she couldn't risk his soul; there was no guarantee that the mixture of human and Monster souls would hold together the way a mixture of purely human souls would. She couldn't risk forging it the same way. So she would hold onto it until the very last moment. She'd watched as Sans injected whatever Alphys had made into her arm, and had cradled Asriel's new soul between her hands, pushing it gently into her chest where it would be safe. It had felt so warm, buzzing with energy.

Everything had gone so smoothly at the end that, during the first couple of weeks, both she and Sans had been expecting something to go wrong. A forced reset by some outside power, or perhaps some calamity. But weeks became months, and nothing had gone wrong.

And now she stood at the doorway to her classroom, staring at it without stepping through. She felt so many emotions bubbling in her chest, the other souls who were now small parts of her. The light blue of Patience, telling her that she need not be in a hurry, that things would shake out if she took her time. The orange of Bravery, telling her that even though this world was so new and strange to her, it had faith that she would face it with a smile. Then came Dark Blue, Integrity, that told her that no matter the challenge, she wouldn't go against who she was.

Yellow, Justice, told her that she would be fair, and that she would never settle for revenge, which had never solved anything. Purple, Perseverance, told her that she wouldn't give up just because things got hard, and green Kindness said she would always keep a soft spot in her heart, that she would find love without finding LOVE.

All of those colors, the colors of the rainbow that had burst from Asriel during their final battle, the colors of his soul, all blended within her. Their voices were whispers, soft and encouraging, but within her soul they all formed one color. One color made of all the others, one color that shone so clearly from her. The scarlet of Determination, a color she shared with Chara, that very first human to fall. A color that she felt she would probably share with Asriel, too, who had been the subject of Alphys's Determination injections.

Determination filled her now, a determination to move forward, to reach for a better future. Butterscotch hues slid open, locking on the door before her. She almost felt the hands of the other humans on her back, urging her forward with strong voices and encouraging words. Taking a long breath, she stepped forward and reached up, pushing the door open and striding into the classroom beyond.

It was a year after the Monsters had emerged. Things had been so hectic, but they were finally starting to settle out. It was just after the last bell for school, and everyone was chattering excitedly. They were talking about what other new things they would do in the Human World, everything from walking in an above-ground forest to eating at a human chain restaurant. Frisk smiled to herself as the left, hefting her backpack onto her shoulder. It was a wonderful day out, she thought as she looked outside. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the flowers were blooming. For her part, she thought she was going to go outside, find a sunny patch, and just lay down.

She looked up as one of the few humans to transfer into the school lately stepped in, looking distinctly uncomfortable. She blinked, taking in his appearance; he looked about her age, and was dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, tennis shoes and a slender little backpack. He had short-cut black hair, and when he met her eyes, his own were a startling blue color. "H-hey... You're, uh... Frisk, right? Like... Frisk D-Dreemurr?"

Frisk blinked slowly again, flicking through the many reactions she could have had. "That's me," she said at length, deciding against pointing out that she had never been officially 'adopted' by Toriel, so technically she didn't have that last name. It's what everyone was coming to know her as, and she had spent enough time trying to stem the tide without any effect. May as well give in to the inevitable; besides, her parents hadn't left her with anything else. Why should she keep their name? "Do you need something?" She asked, smiling soothingly.

The boy managed a little smile, then looked around before stepping inside and closing the door. "Uh, well, it's just... I moved here a couple weeks ago, and..." he stopped, fidgeting in place while he tried to think of how he was going to phrase what he wanted to say. "M-my parents.. Um, they said that you must have been some kind of monster yourself if you let the Monsters out of the underground, back when it first happened, but... I've been wondering what kind of person you really are... You know?"

Frisk blinked, then smiled a little. "You're not in my class," she said, glancing around at the empty classroom, "So I guess you don't get to see me as much as some others..." She paused, thoughtful. "Why don't you start eating with me and my friends?" She suggested after a minute, smiling a warm smile. "That way you can find out what I'm like yourself, instead of taking my word for it?"

"U-uh, but..." His words stumbled to silence, clearly startled by the suggestion. Then his cheeks turned scarlet. "B-but you're a... You know, a girl..."

Frisk laughed softly, reaching out to pat his shoulder as she slipped past him. "I bet I'm also faster than you," she said, her tone a light challenge to the boy. "Don't worry, you won't be the only boy. Almost half my friends are boys; you'll have plenty of other boys to play with, too." Smiling, she stepped out the door, adjusting the straps of her backpack before making her way outside. As she emerged into the sunlight, she realized rather abruptly exactly where it was she wanted to go.

She turned her feet onto the path, made sure her backpack was settled properly, and took off at a sprint; in the year since they'd emerged from the Underground, she'd let her hair grow out, and it now reached almost to between her shoulder blades. And now that she was running, her hair streamed out behind her, the wind on the side of the mountain rather stronger than lower down. She didn't mind the chill of the air, or the bite of the wind; it all reminded her she was alive. Only the slight unevenness of the ground put her off, and that only slightly. She was very, very good at running.

When she slid to a stop at last, it was at the front door of a two-story home. Two mailboxes sat on a single pole, one entirely empty, while the other boasted several letters peeking out of its mail slot. Rolling her eyes, Frisk stepped over to the full box and pulled it open, collecting the some forty letters inside, all addressed to one person. Tucking them carefully in her arms, she closed the box and walked up to the door, using her elbow to push the button.

It actually only took thirty seconds for the door to fly open, and almost immediately, a tall, gangly skeleton wrapped his arms around her and hefted her into the air in a ginormous hug. "Nyeh-heh-heh!" he laughed, setting her down inside the living room and closing the door behind them. "Frisk! I was just telling Sans we should check on you! You haven't been by in a few days, so I was getting worried. Wait here, and I, the great Papyrus, shall make you some spaghetti!"

Frisk managed to keep the momentary terror off her face as Papyrus rushed into the kitchen, turning big butterscotch eyes on the other person in the room. Sans had changed very, very little since they'd come up from the Underground, and that was primarily in the change of his slippers from old pink slippers to new pink slippers. Otherwise, he looked remarkably unchanged by his time on the surface. He sat up as Frisk walked up, dropping the bundle of letters on the table in front of him and settling her hands on her hips. "Oh, hey kiddo," he said with his signature grin. "Haven't seen you for a few days. Thought you were just bone-weary of visiting."

Frisk stared at him for several seconds, then picked up one of the letters and sent it spinning at him. He blocked it with a laugh, then lowered his arm to say something. Grabbing her opportunity, she sent another spinning at him, watching it hit him square between the eyes. "That's for the bad pun," She said, sticking her tongue out at him. When gravity stopped holding onto her, however, she let out a wail of dismay and went airborne. "Sans!"

"What?" He asked innocently, his left eye glowing cerulean as he lifted her, wrapped in a layer of that blue energy of his. "I just thought you wanted to hang out. I didn't want to let you down."

Frisk groaned and shook her head, then folded her arms. "I wanted to ask you something," she said, her tone serious. Catching the tone, the skeleton settled her back onto her feet, then sat up and properly faced her, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees.

"What's up?" He asked, his expression about as serious as it got for the skeleton.

"Remember when we talked about what to do if Humans never accepted Monsters?" She asked, looking around before sighing and sitting on the table next to the letters. "What would happen if they tried forcing everyone back underground?"

"I remember," Sans said, frowning just a bit. "You're not sayin'-"

"No!" Frisk shook her head strongly, then sighed. "But... I realized something. Humans aren't monsters. Or... Well, humans aren't Monsters. All the monsters I've met have been naturally gentle at heart. Powerful, sometimes violent, but ultimately they were always doing what they did for the good of all monsters. But humans... I'll never not be a Human, but... So many humans are just so selfish and mean. They would rather die than give up. If I ever have to deal with people like them, just avoiding them won't be enough. What I did Underground won't be enough."

"You askin' me to train ya, kid?" He asked, eyeing her for several moments.

Frisk stared right back at him, her gaze unflinching. "I know you don't want to, but... I feel like you're the strongest of everyone. Only Asriel was stronger, and that because he had human souls." She smiled a little. "I just want you to teach me how to do what needs to be done. I don't ever want to kill anyone... But I think, maybe, you can teach me to see what has to be done, and teach me how to do it."

 **That's right, ask the comedian how to fight. Angel knows he's taught me a thing or two.**

"Alright, kid," Sans said, eyesockets closing as he let out a long sigh, missing the moment of shocked confusion on Frisk's face. "I'll show ya what I know. But only if you can get Undyne to train ya, too. She can teach ya how to fight a normal person. I'll teach ya how to fight the people she can't beat."

He opened his eyes a few moments later, and by then her confusion had shifted from the murmer of someone's voice to the fact of what he was saying. "W-wait, Undyne?" She asked, remembering quite well the stories Papyrus had told about his training with her. "Can I even survive something like that?"

Sans laughed, reaching out to poke her in the stomach. "What's wrong, shorty, worried that Undyne'll train the carp out of you? Don't worry, she only plays catfish and mouse sometimes." He paused, his horrible puns delivered. "And besides that, I think that humans have the potential to be a whole lot scarier than any Monster."

"I don't want to be scary," Frisk said with a frown, folding her arms across her stomach to ward off any more skeletal belly-boops. "I just want to be able to defeat the people I can't befriend." She sighed, eyes closing as she contemplated the offer. She'd gone to Sans because of several reasons. For one, she knew he was strong. He was super, incredibly strong, though she wasn't sure _how_ she knew that. For another, he'd always been... restrained. He played the goof and oddball, but during her interactions with him during the resets, he'd proven to be far more intelligent and capable than he seemed.

He'd proven he'd help if he thought it best; if anyone were in a place to tell her she didn't need training, it'd be him. But for him to suggest not only training, but training under Undyne... "Do you really think it's dangerous enough out here that I need to learn from both of you?" She asked, watching him curiously.

He didn't do what he normally did when evading a question; didn't lock his smile in place, didn't wave a hand. He stared right back at her and nodded. "I could say a whole lot about how dangerous it is out here," he said, chuckling humorlessly. "But you already know a lot of that, don't ya, kid? So I won't waste your time. I know how you get when you're Determined; how long did we spend tryin' to get Goat Boy a soul? You'd wear me down one way or another. But I think the kind of thing Undyne can teach you's the kind of thing you'll need more often. She'll give ya more HP, more stamina, and probably even more of that agility you've got goin' for you. Probably even stack up your magic reserves; you ain't all magic like us Monsters, but that means you can run yourself dry without dustin' yourself. Then you can use what you gain from her with what you learn from me. But it'll hurt, sweetheart. Learnin' from me will hurt a lot."

"So does dying," Frisk said after a pause. "I'd rather avoid dying if I can." She breathed a sigh, then smiled at the skeleton. "Alright, fine. I'll talk to Undyne."

"Then I'll start trainin' you a few weeks after she does," Sans said, letting out a breath. How did they do that? "Guess we can stick with the easiest bit first; I'll show ya how to take a shortcut."

"There are no shortcuts in training, dear brother!" Came an exclamation that made both Frisk and her skeletal friend leap into the air, Frisk turning to look behind her as Papyrus stepped out of the kitchen, wearing an apron and chef's hat over his 'battle body.' "Frisk, worry not! With the help of I, the Great Papyrus, you will come to be the strongest warrior the Royal Guard has ever seen!"

"Uh, Paps," Sans said, raising a hand. "She's gonna be trained by Undyne, y'know? So-"

"But Undyne has retired!" Papyrus declared, folding his arms. "The only way she can train a fighter is through permission of the Royal Guard! Thus I, the Great Papyrus, will go speak with Undyne now to convince her to come out of retirement, temporarily, to train Frisk! With my help, of course. Frisk, I am afraid you will have to wait some time longer for that spaghetti! I am sorry, but this takes precedence! Nyeh-heh-heh-heh!" Turning, the tall skeleton strode out of the house without so much as removing his apron, leaving Frisk standing next to Sans's couch in bemused silence.

"Did-" Frisk started, before cutting herself off and frowning. "Did Papyrus just make himself my trainer?" She finally finished, turning a confused look to the shorter skeleton.

"I think he did," Sans said with a bemused smile. "Better get goin', kid; you can wait until tomorrow to start your trainin' with Undyne. It's getting late anyway; it'll be dark in a couple hours. Why don't ya enjoy what's left, huh? After all, it's a beautiful day. The birds are singin', the flowers are bloomin'... On days like this, kids like you should be playin' outside."

Frisk smiled, nodding a little. "I can't really claim to be a kid anymore," she said with a wry grin, "not after all those resets. But thanks, Sans." She paused, a thought occuring to her. "I know what I'll do. Mom healed me, the first few times I reset, and that very first time. Before I knew to avoid Flowey, and before I was good enough to get to her home without being hit. Maybe she can teach me how to use healing magic?"

Sans laughed, his smile widening. How did Skeletons get bigger smiles? "Leave it to you to hit on a good idea, kid. You 'n healing magic go together hand-in-hand. It's very you. Go on, then; Undyne can't say a thing if Queen Toriel's givin' you lessons."

Frisk smiled, then stepped up and wrapped her arms around Sans's neck. "Thanks, Sans," she said with a smile. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Maybe we can have something from Grillby's!" She turned, waving over her shoulder at Sans as she trotted out of the house. Once she was out, her smile faded, her expression dimming. _Yeah,_ she thought. _I'm glad he agreed... I hope Undyne agrees. I know exactly how cruel some humans can be... I'll need every trick I can dig up if I'm going to stay free. And stay me._

A/N: Ohh, a short first chapter! This is horrible, Cookie! I'm sorry, guys, I intended to at least double this length, but I wrote those last few lines, and realized that this was a gorgeous place to end things.

Okay, so, a few updates. As it turns out, my friend WILL be writing for this story. A Lost Cookie will be our cooperative profile, since we've already started the story on it and don't really want to delete it and start it on a new profile. So, what does this mean? Well, not a lot will change; we'll post as our schedules permit, and hopefully we'll manage about a chapter each week. Depending on timing, we may even be able to pop out a chapter each each week, which would be wonderful! As for you guys, the meaning is even simpler: you'll be getting more content in the same amount of time! If you want to direct a comment to a particular author, just direct your comment either to Cookie, myself, or to to Whisperfen, my fellow writer. We should sign off at the end of each chapter as the one who wrote it, so there won't be much reason to be uncertain.

So, I think that's that! I'm really looking forward to walking the road this fanfic will take us down with you guys. I hope Chapter One was worth the wait! I don't know when Whisperfen will have his chapter up, but unless the world explodes, you guys can expect me in about a week with the next installation in Frisk's personal walk. I'll be trying to put a greater emphasis on her day-to-day routine from here on in, but as I've been told, I do day-to-day badly and action well. I hope you'll forgive me my inadequacy in the slice-of-life department, but it's my hope to turn that around during the course of writing this.

And this is getting long. I'll leave it here! See you all in my next chapter! Take care, be safe, and most of all, Stay Determined!

~Cookie


	3. Chapter 2: Asriel's Journey

To stand at the precipice of life and death, to step forward and feel an all too familiar hand reach out for yours, and to feel that hand held at bay by a force far, far, greater, was an indescribable feeling. It was a feeling similar to that of being held by those that loved you, the feeling of being surrounded by those closest to your heart, except this...this was different. This was not a feeling of the heart or mind, it was a feeling of the soul, the feeling of a broken mind, body, and being as it was pieced, meticulously, back together. It was a feeling the Prince of Monsters savored once the tears stopped falling, a feeling he held onto as though it were a lifeline in the eye of a storm.

It was the feeling of the sun on his fur and the wind gently rustling his long ears that caught Asriel Dreemurr's attention. His clawed feet scuffed across the ground as though driven by a still groggy will, the soft sound barely audible over the sound of the wind atop the mountain's high plateau. At first he blinked, trying to clear away the blurriness of his new, untested, eyes, but no amount of curiosity could take his gaze away from the group he saw ahead, its number slowly dwindling as they ran off to explore their new world. How could he blame them? They'd been trapped in the darkness for so long, and now, finally, they could see the sun.

When only three remained, three he knew all too well, the young prince stepped forward, his gentle footfalls not yet enough to shake any of the three from their revery. His father, King Asgore Dreemurr, stood as tall and impressive as he always had, his crown, cape, and trident not seen in the Human world for over a thousand years. Then there was his mother, so gentle and kind, and the blue and white robes that she had worn for as long as his memory had served. She was the power behind the throne, in truth, but his dear, loving, parents were not the ones Asriel focused his eyes upon; no, that special place of honor was reserved for Her.

Prince Dreemurr stepped fully from the darkness of the cave and gently laid a single hand on her shoulder, the slight start as a certain realization dawned on her bringing a quiet smile to the prince's face. "The last time I saw this sky," he said softly, his tone distant, but no longer wistful, "I had Chara in my arms. We had...we had a plan to free the Monsters... Just one soul to pass the Gate, then six more to break it down forever. One life willingly given...and six from the... **creatures** that had imprisoned us for so long. Then my people would be free again, they would finally have hope again..."

Asriel's gaze turned dreamlike and morose as he watched the sun's brilliant rise over Frisk's shoulder, his hand digging ever so lightly into her skin. "I couldn't do it then...I was a cowa-"

Frisk laid her hand across his, her touch alone enough to draw his mind away from such dismal thoughts. "Don't say that, Asriel.", she whispered as she turned, finally looking upon the boy she'd tried so hard to save, "You're not a coward, you're a prince to your people, and you're an angel to boot." Her smile turned wry, a sideways grin she'd reserved just for him. "I'm just the fallen angel that helped you on your way, yeah?"

Whatever Asriel's thoughts, whatever his response, it was lost in those butterscotch eyes and the feeling of weight on his shoulders and sides. He hadn't even felt his parents kneel and embrace him, their arms wrapping him and Frisk up as though letting go would allow them to disappear once more. In truth, even as his mother seconded the idea of them both being precious angels, as tears were shed and the sun's warmth began to work into Asriel's fur, the prince registered little more. His steps, his words, all well rehearsed as though they'd happened a million times, but this feeling? The feeling of embracing Frisk and letting his own tears fall upon her shoulder? That...that was too new, as though this was the first time it had happened, as though...

Asriel awoke with a start, the prince sitting bolt upright in bed as his wide eyes tried to focus in the darkness. The room was pitch black save for a faint shaft of moonlight streaming in through one of the old house's peaked windows. Asriel liked the dark, it always seemed comforting when the nightmares came to visit, and the Underground had always been dark, right? It was only natural then, that a monster like him should enjoy the dark of night.

The prince groaned, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he swung his legs out of bed, and rose with a crack of joints settling, his fur, for once, not matted by a cold sweat. It felt like it'd been years since he'd slept without some kind of nightmare, but that dream was just...weird. He'd never had anything quite like it before, nothing so...real..so tangible. It had been like he was really back on the mountainside, watching the sun rise over a world entirely alien to his eyes, and Her touch had been just as painfully real. Asriel hadn't seen Frisk in...what was it, four years? Five? Time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, only to bear down upon his shoulder when he stopped and thought about all he'd missed out on.

Furred feet padding across wooden floorboards, each toe clacking on the old boards, Asriel realized he'd need to trim his claws before long, they'd only grown larger since he'd returned from his journey. Oh how his mother had squealed in delight to see him walking back down the old, familiar paths, how his father's face had wrinkled with an aging smile at the sight of his growing son. Despite growing older, despite actually feeling time's passage again, Asgore and Toriel never once complained of aches, pains, or the cruelty of nature. At one time Asriel had wondered why, he'd even asked old Grillby and the silent innkeeper's only response had been to write out, _"They're proud. Again."_ , on a napkin. That'd been the first time Asriel had shed tears for anyone but his family, Grillby had just patted his shoulder and whipped up a batch of fries on the house.

Asriel scoffed quietly at the memory as he ducked into the fridge, looking for something, anything, that would sate his late night hunger pains. Bologna? Not enough. Pie? Too sweet. Left over spaghetti? Not if he wanted to continue living, poor old Papyrus had never quite gotten the hang of making his 'famous' noodles.

Sighing, the Pwqa prince straightened up and looked around the small kitchen, eventually settling his gaze on a half-empty box of cereal. Hey, his people looked like goats to Humans, right? In that case it only made sense that he'd be eating grains. As he sat down at the kitchen table, bowl and box held in one hand, the distant sounds of movement reached his keen ears. More than likely it was Undyne moving about, only she was insane enough to willingly be up so early in the morning, but a part of him hoped that she wouldn't come downstairs just yet. He'd decided to shack up with the militant captain and Alphys when he got back, but the quiet of the early morning was the perfect time to fall away into the mists of memory, 'fall' being the operative word. Asriel poured his cereal and closed his eyes, the last, warm, vestiges of his dreams fading away as his vision seemed to turn in on itself and all the wonderful, and terrible, things that lay locked within.

"Asriel, wake up!" A high, all too familiar, voice rang through the young prince's head as his eyes shot open and immediately locked on Frisk's butterscotch gaze. "Wake up! We're going to be late for class!" Blinking blearily, Asriel nodded and half rolled, half fell, out of the bed as he scrambled to change out of his pajamas. The second he was out of the bed Frisk was already gone, tearing downstairs to eat breakfast as though her life depended on it, and the prince wasn't very far behind the young ambassador. Life had been surprisingly easy going for Asriel ever since Frisk had brought his people back, and his soul along with them; easy enough, in fact, that he'd mostly fallen into the routine of school, chores, and exploring the world around their village. It was a quiet, simple routine that allowed him a measure of peace, something that he desired more than anything after the nightmare that Frisk had freed him from. He'd not retained all of his memories, of course, but he remembered enough to know the pain that he'd caused, to feel the anger, fear, and hatred that had lingered in the back of his mind like some kind of cancer. He didn't remember everything, but he remembered enough to look at Frisk with nothing short of eternal gratitude for her actions, a fact he tried to remind her of every, single, day.

An exceedingly quick breakfast, and a tight hug from Toriel, later and they were both off, running well ahead of the motherly Pwqa that doubled as their teacher. Classes were surprisingly easy, for the most part, despite Asriel never having had a strictly formal education before, and whatever he couldn't do Frisk helped him with. In fact, they made the perfect team. As he'd become more and more a part of the Human world, Asriel had come to realize that Frisk looked after him as much as she did all the other monsters, and he'd tried his very best to do the same for her, not that she ever really needed help.

Frisk was always strong, always Determined, and always, above all, an independent soul. She was special in more ways than she ever admitted, at least so far as Asriel had ever heard, and that was never been more apparent than when she saved him for a second time. Classes had been let out for the day and the young prince found himself outside, reading beside a human boy, Frederick, that he'd come to befriend. Most of the humans were cautious, wary even, but they were curious too, and a handful were friendly enough to approach people like Asriel or M.K. It was the end of the school year, though, and not every human was quite so kind and accepting of those different from themselves. A group, three or four other children at the most, approached Asriel and Frederick, their leader, Keith, was a slightly older boy with sandy red hair and decidedly cunning green eyes. Keith had never particularly liked Monsters, he'd made his opinions so clear on that matter that Toriel had purposefully transferred him to another, all-human, school, but never before had he been violent about it. The older boy shoved Frederick off of his, and Asriel's, log perch hard enough that the smaller boy cracked his head on the ground and looked up, clearly dazed. Asriel had never been amazingly brave, at least he'd never thought so, but the young prince stood up to Keith all the same, standing between him and Frederick. "Oh, is someone finally gonna get brave?", the older boy sneered, making a mock gesture of looking around the yard, "Or is mummy around to save you again?"

Asriel glared, his heart racing and fists tightening. "I won't let you hurt him, Keith. Why can't you just leave us alone?" The young Pwqa's voice was low and surprisingly calm, but it was far from steady, his tone cracking just enough to make Keith smile. It was cruel expression, one of dominance.

"You won't _let_ me hurt him?", the boy repeated, making a show of being shocked, "What, are you saying I should hurt **you** instead? 'Cause trust me, I'd like nothing more. Your kind doesn't belong up here, with us."

Asriel, again, just glared up at the taller boy, his hands unwilling to move despite his fighting spirit. He was a gentle soul, a compassionate child, not one prone to violence or conflict. Things like that were entirely alien to him, one of the many reasons his own actions in the Underground left such a stomach churning taste in his mouth. He wasn't willing to repeat that, not yet, not without a good reason.

The prince's silence was met by a sneering laugh and muted chuckling from the others in Keith's gang. "If you're so tough," the older boy jabbed two fingers into Asriel's chest as though punctuating his point, "why don't you prove it? Show me, _'Prince Dreemurr'_ , or keep your stinking trap shut like a good little _goat_." Again he jabbed Asriel's chest, but Keith's smile faded all too quickly when he realized he couldn't pull his hand back. "Wha-"

Keith never got to finish his sentence thanks to the book bag that careened through the air and deflected off of his thick skull, the expert throw followed a half-second later by the sound of running feet and a voice, a girl's voice, shouting. Asriel was stunned into silence, partly by the tempest of thoughts and emotions that wheeled through his young mind and partly by what had just happened, but the sight of Frisk jogging towards him, Keith and his gang nowhere in sight, slowly began dragging his mind back to reality.

At first her words fell on deaf ears, literally, as she reached for Asriel, shook him, and asked him something, eyes wide with concern and dilated with adrenaline. When he didn't respond she looked past him, reaching down to help Frederick up and dust him off, ensuring that there were no real injuries from Keith's hateful antics. "Asriel!" Again her words fell on nearly deaf ears, the feeling of both Frederick and Frisk shaking Asriel's shoulders accompanied by a slight ringing as his mind returned to order. "Asriel, are you alright?"

Finally the prince was able to break his stunned silence, his gaze flicking to Frisk's as he muttered a quiet, "I-I'm..fine.." Frisk's eyes never really changed, no matter how many times he repeated himself, but she did, eventually, turn her attention away just long enough to tell Frederick to go and get Toriel. Asriel knew there would be questions, concerns, and that, unfortunately, there very little chance of anything coming of the situation. It would be chalked up to the 'adjustment period' or 'youthful bad decisions' just as it always was, no matter the concern and outrage Frisk and Toriel felt. It was not these things, though, that Asriel was considering as he watched Frisk's expression change in a thousand minute ways, the feeling of her hand tightly clinging to his shoulder matched as his own hand drifted to hers. He didn't say anything, there was little he could think to say, but he knew he'd seen something in her eyes when she'd first attacked Keith. It was something more than anger, something his conscious mind had missed but his subconscious had latched onto, and it was still there, though well hidden, when she turned back around to face him. Asriel hadn't known it at the time, he'd been far too young, but, with the passage of time, he'd realized that, reflected in Frisk's butterscotch eyes, had been the very flames that she'd seen in his eyes, flames that he'd since come to call constant companions.

It was to the feeling of a rough hand affectionately slapping his shoulder that Asriel's eyes snapped open, his own hand covering his left eye just long enough for the violet flames to die away. "Hey kiddo, you alright?" It was dark still, the blue glow of the early morning sun just barely peeking over the horizon outside, but Asriel would've known Undyne's voice anywhere.

The prince looked up, blinking slowly as though he still wasn't fully awake, and nodded quietly. For the gruff captain of the guard to ask if he was alright he must've looked mighty sorry for himself, but, then, he always did when his mind started to wander into old memories. "Hey..I...didn't wake you, did I?"

The shark like guards-woman drew herself a glass of water and hopped up on the counter, shaking her head firmly. "Nah, been up for two hours already. Bit early for you, ain't it?", she asked with a good natured grin, "Never thought I'd see royalty rise 'fore dawn cracked."

Asriel scoffed and leaned back in his chair, his silver eyes tracing over the cereal he'd still not eaten. "Me and dad maybe..but mom was always up early, doesn't she get up before you sometimes?" It was an absurd question, but Asriel was just glad to be able to talk to Undyne again. It felt like it'd been a long time since he'd just...talked.

"Up before me?", Undyne grinned incredulously, "Hardly kid, but she's got a reason t' be up early anyways, gotta go teach th' little ones how to put two-and-two together. Seems to me it'd all be a whole lot more worth it if she just let me teach 'em a couple things." The captain stretched and nonchalantly pulled a blue spear out of thin air as if to make her 'point' more tangible, its blue surface roiling like a disturbed tide or hurricane's swell. "'Sides, I keep things interesting! Always somethin' new to survive or destroy."

Despite himself, Asriel laughed, a long overdue smile creasing his furred muzzle at the thought of Undyne teaching children anything. "I think the whole, 'something new to _survive_ ', thing is why you don't teach kids, Undyne; you know, just a thought." At the sentry's all too enthused laugh Asriel, again, smiled, his mind wandering for the briefest moment towards how the others must've been doing. He'd not spoken to anyone except Undyne and Alphys yet, and he knew that Papyrus, if no one else, would never forgive him if he didn't drop by at least once. "Thanks, again." The sudden thank-you caught Undyne off guard, a black brow rising as Asriel looked up to her from his seat. "For letting me stay, I mean. It's been nice to...you know, be home.. Again."

Undyne almost always wore a smile, unless she was chewing someone out, but it became ever so slightly more genuine in return. The veteran nodded once, quickly, before hopping down from her perch and hooked an arm around Asriel's neck, nearly squeezing the life out of his throat with her overpowering hug. "Good to have ya back kiddo, wasn't quite the same without'cha." Mercifully she let go, Asriel's hand lingering on her arm a moment longer before she slipped out of the kitchen to get ready for the day.

Asriel had only gotten back the day before, his feet and mind equally sore from the long path he'd walked, but he knew that, before too long, word would get out of his return. Somehow, for some reason, he didn't mind the thought like he'd thought he would.

The Prince had come back home.

 _A/N: Hey all! Name's Whisper and I'll be your copilot with Cookie for this roller coaster ride. Hopefully my first submission goes over well, I've been writing for a long time but fan fiction is a whole new beastie to conquer! My next chapter should be a bit longer, as will Cookie's so I hear, so it can only get better from here on out._

 _See you all in the next one!_

 _~Whisperfen_


	4. Chapter 3: Buttercup Dreams

" _What's wrong, Comedian?" She asked, her lips spread in a large, horrible smile. Her pendant, a little locket of gold in the shape of a heart, swung from her neck with every step, pulsing with a sickly black energy. Before her stood Sans, staring at her with a single flashing eye. His smile was still in place, but it seemed fake, like a mask. But then, she'd worn a mask, too, hadn't she? Maybe that was how she knew. She shifted her grip on the knife in her hand, laughing as her other hand tightened around the small pouch it held. "You've been skullking around ever since I played with your brother~" She saw his posture shift, knew what it meant. If her grin could grow any larger, it would have. "Oh, I know what you want. You want to see him again, don't you?"_

" _You killed him, didn't you?" He asked, his hand rising to his throat, where a tattered crimson scarf was wound about. "Why? Papyrus couldn't have hurt a fly, even if he tried. Why'd you kill him? What'd he ever do to you?"_

" _He lived," She said with a shrug. "In this world, it's kill or be killed." She noticed the twitch in his expression, laughed. "What, didn't you know? I'm the one that pushed that idiot flower onto that route. 'Cuz it was fun, something to do." Then she grinned. "But I'll tell ya what. I'm a big fan of family reunions. I just had one with my brother, after all... So let's have a Skeleton Family Reunion!" Her left hand whipped up, the pouch flying. It was a thin little thing, so fragile that it broke open as Sans's hand flashed up, catching it just in front of his face. Silvery powder exploded into a cloud that settled onto him._

" _W-what? Dust? What's this ab-" He broke off as realization dawned, his eyes flicking from his hand to the dust covering him, then up at her. "No... This isn't..."_

" _What's wrong, Comedian?" She asked, her tone cold as the depths of space. "Tell your brother how much you missed him."_

 _His hand seized around the bag, crushing it. "I see how it is. If you get past me, it won't end, will it? You'll kill the King, then you'll go on to kill every human you can on the surface. You'll kill everyone." His hand dropped, and he took a breath. "I can't afford to not care anymore. Sorry, old lady; This is why I never make promises."_

This is all wrong, _she thought, feeling the excitement in her body even as her guts roiled sickly._ I would never do this... Why... _But she was doing it. She lunged forward, closing the distance between them with startling speed. He let her approach, his single eye alive with malevolence. He was so weak, she thought. He wasn't even trying to move! She raised her hand, raising the knife high. Light flashed from the edge of the dagger she'd once used to cut vines, then it streaked downward, describing a deadly arc that cut right through-_

 _The place where Sans had been. She barely had time to feel shocked before bones ripped up out of the floor, punching through the soft flesh of her chest, her stomach. Pain like molten metal radiated through her for several hearbeats, each pulse dying the ivory poles impaling her crimson. Then another bone exploded out of the ground, right in front of her face, and-_

 _The world around them ripped and tore, and suddenly, she was facing Sans again. D- Did he just kill her?! What the hell?! She felt the bag in her hand, but she didn't throw it this time. How had he-_

" _What's wrong, kid?" He asked, his tone grimly amused. Her eyes found his. "You look frustrated about something... Guess I'm pretty good at my job, huh?" He was amused! She could see it in his expression, a kind of sick amusement at her reactions. "So like I said," he was saying, "It's a beautiful day. Why don't you relax and take a load off?"_

 _She lunged forward, closing the distance once again. She struck again, and once again the bones ripped from the ground. But this time, she leaped back, away from them. More bones tore through her, this time from behind, punching up through her chest, her arms, her stomach and legs. She barely managed a gurgling cry of pain before-_

 _And there she was again, standing in front of the skeleton. The comedian. "Hmm," he said, gazing at her with that damned grin. "That expression... That's the expression of someone who's died twice in a row. Suffice to say, you look really... Unsatisfied." His eyesockets went empty, his words cold. "Alright. How 'bout we make it a third?"_

 _She lunged forward, closing the distance quickly. He dodged her strike, then she leaped back, avoiding the first bone-spike. She leaped higher this time, soaring over the bones behind her. And as she flew, she looked back- And felt bones rip into her front. She gasped, feeling her HP drop, but she wasn't dead. Bleeding, but not dead. She reached out as she fell, palming the end of one of the bones and shoving herself back, her feet towards her direction of movement, face-down. Now she could see the bones that had killed her, and looking 'overhead' she saw the bones that had struck her front, stained crimson. They were arrayed like a wave, low in the middle but growing higher. Then her feet found the ground, and the bones were dissolving._

" _Suck that, Com-" she started to say, before the sight of a massive skull forming in front of her. Three others formed around her, their jaws parting. She didn't even have time to exclaim before the skulls released massive beams of energy. She felt her soul shredding apart under the beams, then-_

 _She was back again. "Hmm, that expression..." he said, grinning. "That's the face of someone who's died thrice in a row." He paused, thoughtful. "Hey, what comes after thrice, anyway?" His eyes went empty, his voice cold. "Wanna help me find out?"_

 _And so it went. It took her two more resets before she got past that initial volley, during which he taunted her with every fall. "Quice? Frice? Welp, I only need to use it once." "Five times in a row. Convenient, huh? That's once for each finger. But soon..." Then she got it, she survived, and with that accomplishment, she realized something. This was just his opening salvo, the first shots of what was sure to be a horrible fight. That realization, the feeling of his gaze upon her... It felt like something cold and slimy was crawling up her spine, sending involuntary shivers through her body._

" _Alright, Comedian," she said, her voice chilling with its depravity. "I hope that wasn't your best, because you and I are about to have a good, long talk~" She could see him blanch, before he covered it all up again by closing his eyes and maintaining his grin. "And by the time we're done... Oh, we'll have had such a **good** time~"_

" _You're pretty messed up, y'know that, kid?" He asked, shrugging and shaking his head. "But alright, let's play the game." She felt her grip on the knife shift, spinning it about on her palm before lunging forward. She closed the distance so quickly, her eyes focused on his chest even as her mind screamed to stop it, stop it, **stop it**! But she didn't stop, the worn dagger in her hand flashing out at him once again._

 _And once again, he wasn't there, he was elsewhere, in the space of a single step. Part of her reeled in confusion, wondering how he did it, while the other part curled in on itself, wishing it could cover its eyes, its ears. She pivoted, watching as he held up a hand wrapped in cerulean flame, a dozen bones forming in the air around him before launching themselves at her. She ducked and weaved around them, her feet sometimes leaving the ground entirely. It was on that last jump that she realized she'd been set up, the final bone streaking straight for her chest. She tried to get the knife up, to cut the bone apart as easily as she'd cut so many monsters apart-_

 _White-hot agony bloomed in her chest and back, and she barely had time to look down at the ebony shaft sticking out of her chest before the world ripped and tore around her, everything going black for a moment before she appeared before Sans again._

" _Hmm... That face... it's the expression of someone who's died six times in a row. Hey, that's the number of fingers on a mutant hand. But soon..." And she was right back at it, leaping to close the distance, dodging the stream of bones and skulls. It lasted for so long, she could feel it. Where Frisk had spent hundreds of resets fighting against what felt like the will of the underground to save Asriel, this dream version of her had spent hundreds of resets just trying to beat Sans. And though they got a little closer every time, they never quite managed to beat him. And as the resets wore on, she could feel her dream self's **Determination** flagging, the will behind it growing weary. Then Sans stood, panting, and spread his arms. She didn't hear what he said, didn't hear the meaning; all she knew was that she had a chance. Her dream self was so tired of fighting and dying. She knew Sans had finally seen her, was offering her the chance to stop this without either of them dying._

 _She finally broke free, lunging forward to wrap her arms around Sans's waist, crying loudly into his arms. She felt his arms go around her, and for a second, she thought it was finally over. Then pain exploded through her chest, her back, her legs and stomach. The last thing she heard was Sans's voice. "Get dunked on!"_

Frisk didn't so much sit upright as she did bolt physically out of the bed, her ears ringing with the echoes of her scream. It took hardly any time at all for Toriel to come rushing to her room, dressed in a nightgown. Behind her, Asgore staggered into view in the hall, his crimson trident in hand. Toriel was on her almost immediately, and Frisk clung to her, burying her face in Toriel's shoulder. "My child, what is wrong?" She asked, her tone warm and soothing, her hands stroking Frisk's back. When little more than terrified sobs left Frisk, the Pwqa mother shifted slightly, and a few seconds later she felt more than saw Asgore crouch next to her, hugging her with Toriel.

"Did you have a bad dream, Frisk?" He asked, drawing a slight nod from the girl, if nothing else. She heard him sigh, and after a moment Toriel scooped her up, carrying her with surprising ease. A distant part of her idly wondered when Toriel would be _unable_ to lift her, since her and Asgore both were incredibly strong. But that was a vague, distant part of her mind. The rest of her conscious mind was wailing in distress, very much the terrified child she looked to be despite the additional years on her mind.

"Come along, my child," Toriel whispered in her ear. "Asgore will make us some tea, and when you have calmed you can tell us about this dream you-" she broke off as Frisk shook her head, putting a surprising amount of energy behind the motion. "Do you not wish to talk about it?" Toriel ask, earning a nod from the terrified youngster. "Very well," she conceded gently, squeezing Frisk in a hug. "Then let us drink some tea, have some pie, and recover from this. And when you are ready, we can get some sleep. Would you like to sleep with me, child?"

Toriel and Asgore might be living together again, but they'd yet to start sleeping in the same room again. Slowly, Frisk nodded, her sobs slowing until only sniffles and whimpers remained. She finally raised her head from Toriel's shoulder as they walked into the kitchen, Toriel settling onto a chair while Asgore moved on to the stove, gathering the ingredients for the tea and creating a little fireball on the stove to heat the water he placed atop it not long after.

The tea was ready in a few moments, and Frisk sat in Toriel's lap as she sipped it, unwilling to so much as shift her position for fear that Toriel would let her go. She had no desire to face that dream, those memories, again. But as she drank the tea, her eyes grew heavy, and by the time she'd finished the cup, she'd begun to doze. She barely remembered Toriel scooping her up, her voice muttering softly and Asgore's responding. Then she was in a dark room, being settled onto a bed far larger than her own, a warm body nearby. The last of her resistance gave in, and Frisk fell asleep curled against Toriel's side.

She didn't dream.

When she woke the next day, it was to an empty bed. Murmuring tiredly, the girl sat up and rubbed at her eyes, looking around the room blearily. It took her sleepy brain several seconds to recognize that she was in Toriel's room, and several more seconds to realize that the alarm nearby announced it to be nearly noon. When she did, though, a jolt of panic ran through her. Today was a school day, she thought with a growing sense of panic. When a voice spoke from behind her, she screeched in surprise and no small amount of fear, tumbling off the bed into a pile on the other side.

"Jeez, kid," Sans said from the doorway when she peeked over the edge, butterscotch hues wide. "You look like you've seen a ghost. You okay?"

Frisk nodded slightly, trying to control her breathing. Then she nodded more firmly, climbing to her feet. At about 4'4", she was short even amongst her peers, but she managed not to curl in on herself as her throat tightened, staring at Sans.

He watched her for several seconds, his grin fading slowly. "Kid, you okay? You really do look freaked out." He took a step forward, pausing at the way her eyes widened, then sighed. "Is it that dream you had?" He asked. "Izzat why you're so upset?" He saw her reaction, shrugging. "Toriel said you'd had a really rough night. She wanted to stay with ya, but she had to teach, y'know? So she called and asked me to babysit ya. So, was that it? Your dream?"

Frisk took a breath, then nodded and climbed onto the bed, patting it in offer to the skeleton. He slouched his way over, climbing onto it and grabbing a pillow before lounging with his head near the foot of the bed, facing back towards her. "I-I dreamed," she began before cutting off, unsure of how to put it. Then she looked up at him, saw the worry in his eyes that he promptly tried to hide. Steeling herself, she took another breath before speaking. "I dreamed that I was in the hallway with you. The one where you first told me about what Love and Exp meant. But... It was all wrong. Everything felt cold, even though it didn't look any different. It felt empty- _I_ felt empty, like i'd done horrible things. And- And I was... I was covered in Dust... I had a pouch of it in my hand..."

She paused for a moment, breathing a long, ragged breath before continuing. "And you were there. But... You said I'd killed everyone. That I was going to try and kill humans and monsters alike. Then- Then we fought, and... And you killed me. You killed me more times than I can count, again and again until- Y-you let me surrender. I thought- I thought I was finally being given a reprieve. I ran to you, I hugged you, and- And you killed me again. That's when I woke up, when you killed me that last time. It all- It all felt so _real,_ Sans, it was like I was actually doing it, but I couldn't control myself and I wasn't choosing anything but to try and show Mercy like I normally do and even that got me killed and-"

She broke off as Sans pulled her against him. For just a moment, she panicked, flashing back to the hug Sans had given her before, right before he'd killed her in the dream. Then her racing heart calmed, slowly, and she wrapped her arms around his torso and buried her head in his shoulder, crying silent tears. "It's alright, kid," he said softly, rubbing her back slowly. "There ain't a monster alive that wants you hurt, kiddo, and it's all because you never hurt us. We're all alive, we're all safe. Hell, you even saved Goat-Boy. Y'did good, so don't worry about some stupid dream, huh? It wasn't real."

"Sans," she started, hesitantly. "Do you have skulls that shoot lasers?" She knew the answer before he ever spoke; the way he stiffened, the surprise in him, it told her all she needed to know. "So it was real... At least, kind of... I never did any of that stuff, but it wasn't fake... It was real, somehow..."

Sans had pulled back to look her over, and after a few moments he let out a sigh and smiled. "Alright, kid. Maybe this has something to do with all your resets. I'll look into it, see what I can dig up, alright? For now, don't worry too much about it. Until we can figure more out about this, it's just a really, really weird dream, alright?"

Frisk nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Then she grinned a bit at him, reaching out to flick his forehead. "That's for using mercy to kill me," she said with a weak laugh. Sans scowled at her, folding his arms. "Aww, I'm sorry. I know you have a lot of questions to answer. You're so merci-full of them, you're bursting at the seams!"

He tried to resist, but ultimately he grinned and laughed, patting her shoulder. "If you can think up bad jokes after a night like that, you're just fine, kid."

Frisk smiled, wiping the remnants of her tears from her face. "But if that dream was that accurate, at least I know what to expect while we're training, huh?" she shook her head, then shuffled to the side of the bed. "I, uh, I should probably go. If I'm not going to school, I should at least go see Undyne about training me." She shivered slightly, a vague image of Undyne in unfamiliar armor, her eye patch missing, brushing through her mind. It faded too quickly to grasp, but it had the same familiarity to it that the dream had had. "Want to come along?" She asked suddenly, grinning. "I haven't eaten yet, so maybe we can get some Grillby's on the way?"

Sans laughed and nodded. "Sure, kid," he said, winking an eye socket at her. "Go get dressed, then we'll head on over. Don't worry," he started, and Frisk turned to face him, speaking at the same time as him.

"I know a shortcut," they both said, before dissolving into laughter. "I get it," Frisk said with a smile, giggling softly even after the first wave of laughter had passed. "Don't worry, I won't be long." Then she turned and made her way out of the room.

When she slid down the stairs of Toriel's house about ten minutes later, she was fully dressed; shorts over rather thick tights, a fitted blue-and-violet shirt under the jacket Sans had given her on that very last reset, and specially-made boots that Undyne had given her. Her hair, which had been a rat's nest when she'd woken up, was brushed and glossy-smooth, and her face bore none of the emotions that had torn her apart shortly after she'd woken up. Sans stood at the base of the stairs, leaning against the wall with a book in hand. She recognized the book; she'd seen that book on Quantum Physics every time she'd gone into Sans and Papyrus's house. She wondered if it still boasted a joke book inside, or if Sans was actually brushing up on the science book itself. "Ready?" She asked, smiling warmly at him.

He looked up as she reached the bottom, skipping the last three stairs entirely by taking a little hop and landing with surprisingly little noise on the floor. "Yeah," he said with a grin, reaching out and grabbing her hand. "C'mon, let's hit Grillby's; if we don't hurry, we'll miss the lunch-time special, and people might think I'm slacking off or somethin'." He pulled her along as he walked up to the front door, reaching out to open it.

It opened directly into the bar and grill that had once served a rather small handful of monsters in the Underground, but that had since moved to the surface to service a much larger group of both monsters and humans. Frisk didn't bother trying to sort out the how of things; Sans had been doing this since her very first time in the underground. It was mind-bending, but it was normal to her by now. Monsters turned towards the pair as they walked in, and with a bark, the heavily-armored Greater Dog bounded up, yapping happily. Smiling, she looked at Sans, who sighed and lifted her up onto his shoulders. There, she reached up to pet the Greater Dog, rubbing between and behind his ears, then ruffling the fur of his face and cooing happily at it.

It responded by licking her face, its tail very nearly becoming a propeller as it wagged. Then it bounded back to its friends, Lesser Dog, Doggo, and the married couple, Dogamy and Dogaressa. As was usual, everyone in the room greeted Sans, but as was less common, they also greeted Frisk by name, which made her shift shyly on Sans's shoulders.

He carried her up to the bar's counter, settling her onto a stool before climbing onto the one next to her. Both greeted the owner and cook, Grillby, with big grins. "I'll take a burger," Sans said, before pausing so Frisk could order.

"Mmm... Can I have a box of fries?" She asked with a smile. Grillby nodded and silently made his way to the back. The layout of the new Grillby's wasn't too different from the old one, though now it boasted not only a larger eating area, but a second floor with bedrooms and such that he rented out. The capital city of the Monsters was so big, after all, that he was no longer competing with the bunnies for customers, so the two could have their own hotels without actually cutting into each-other.

When Grillby returned a few minutes later, it was with a burger and a box of fries, which he set in front of each of them. "Don't forget to pay your tab, Sans," he said to the skeleton, turning those glasses on him.

Frisk stepped in quickly as she reached over, plucking the ketchup from in front of the Skeleton squeezing a rather large helping of ketchup onto the fries. This would not be a clean meal. "I can pay it for him," she said, shifting a little in her seat. "Since I have a government job, I'm getting paid for it, and to be honest, I don't really buy that much."

"Thank you," Grillby said, his voice like the crackle and snap of burning logs, "But I can't let you do that. It's Sans's tab. Sans should be the one to pay."

"Don't worry, Grillbz," the Skeleton in question said with his trademark grin, upending the bottle of ketchup and taking a drink. "As soon as I get my first paycheck, I'll pay off my tab in full."

Grillby gave him what Frisk was sure was the equivalent of the stink eye, then returned to cleaning glasses. Frisk looked over at Sans with a raised eyebrow, then leaned in close. "When will you be getting your first paycheck?" She asked, her tone quiet enough that Grillby wouldn't overhear.

"I'll let you know when I get hired," Sans replied, sipping at his ketchup before setting it aside and taking a huge bite out of his burger. Frisk just stared at him for several moments before shaking her head. This was the same person who had helped her to find a way to save Asriel? If she hadn't known any better, she'd have said he was a lazy good-for-nothing. That he could be counted on when he was needed wasn't clear at all by the way he acted.

Sighing, the girl started picking out bundles of fries and gulping them down, only realizing after the first bite just how hungry she actually was. Her stomach very nearly cramped up on her, though she'd eaten a rather large dinner the night before. She finished her first box before Sans, and even had time to order, and devour, a second before the Skeleton finished his burger. "You're a terrible influence, Sans," she said with a shake of her head, licking her ketchup-coated fingertips clean.

"I'm the terrible influence?" The skeleton asked, his tone innocent. "How am I the terrible influence when you just massacred not one, but two boxes of fries? Look! You're even licking the blood off your fingers!"

"Says the skeleton who drinks that 'blood' like it's water and you're dehydrated," Frisk said with a roll of butterscotch hues. Then she held up a single finger, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the very tip. It took almost a full minute, but by the time Sans finally opened his mouth to ask, a tiny flame flickered to life.

"Woah. Gettin' goat fire magic already?" He asked, watching the flame for several moments.

"Only the basics," Frisk admitted, frowning as she tried to make the flame larger. It grew slightly, and in fits, until it was about the size of a large candle's flame. "It's really hard, though, and-" before she could finish, the flame winked out. Gasping, Frisk leaned heavily against the counter, waving off Sans's hand as he reached to help support her. "And I can't hold it for long... I've been working at it for a few months now; since Mom didn't get a working stove, we can only cook using fire magic. I've been wanting to learn how to cook a bit, so I've been practicing with her old books when she's not around. It's... Really, really hard."

"Yeah, but... Just a few months?" Sans huffed a laugh. "I was right, you humans can be scary if you want to be." he shook his head, thoughtful, but when he spoke, it wasn't about the fire magic. "You ask her about healing magic?" He asked, watching her as she recovered from the strain of creating that one flame.

"Mmmph... Yeah, I asked." She waved her hand, and a moment later Grillby settled a glass of soda in front of her. Picking it up, she took a sip. "She's thrilled that I'm interested in it. I mean, absolutely ecstatic. Not so happy when she heard I was going to be training with Undyne, but she understood, I think. She gave me a few basic instructions, things I can do to get ready, but I won't be healing anyone for a while now. It's not as hard as Fire magic, but as I understand it, it's more draining even once you've mastered it."

"Makes sense," Sans said with a shrug, chuckling. "I mean, you control how hot the fire is, right?" He waited for Frisk's nod before continuing. "That means that the fire is only using as much energy as you want it to. Meanwhile, to heal, you have to actually provide all the energy that would normally be consumed by weeks of healing all at once."

"That's how Mom explained it, too," Frisk said with a nod. "She said I have a lot of potential for someone my age, but I shouldn't expect to be really good at healing until I'm sixteen or so. Until then, I can help, but any real healing still has to come from her." She sighed, gazing at her hand. "It's... I just feel kind of helpless."

"That's why Paps and Undyne are gonna be trainin' you," he said with a grin. "So you're not helpless. You know Undyne; she'll teach you how to use all your power. And in your case, I think you already know enough not to use too much power at once. She'll teach you how to get strong, stay strong, and survive. Me... I'll teach you how to give the guys troubling you a really **bad time**."

Frisk stiffened slightly, glancing up at him at that phrase before smiling wryly. "I guess you will," she murmured. "After all, you gave the dream me a really, really bad time..."

Sans paused, then reached over and patted her shoulder. To her credit, she didn't flinch away. "Kiddo, I'd never lay a hand on you, y'know that, right? As long as you keep that certain tenderness in your heart, you'll never find a more firm ally than me."

"Thanks," she said with a smile, her hand rising to pat his hand. Then she sighed, hopping off of the stool and turning to face him. "I guess we gotta go see Undyne now, huh?"

Sans chuckled, plucking the bottle of ketchup from the counter as he dropped down. As if used to this, Grillby placed another in its place, waving to Frisk. Frisk waved back with a small smile. "Yeah, we might ought to. C'mon, kid; I know a shortcut."

It was as easy as stepping around the corner for her to get to Undyne's new house on the surface, with a brief interim of blinding light and darkness. Much like the one underground, her house was shaped like a fish, but apparently, the mermaid had learned a lesson from her last home.

For one thing, the kitchen was no longer an actual part of the house. Instead, it had been built separate, and the distance between the two buildings was separated by ornate blue tilework that looked very much like water. For another, the scales of the fish were no longer wood, but thin, carved stone over fireproof tiling. Alphys had become the de facto cook for the pair, and while it wasn't the delicious meals Frisk enjoyed with Toriel and Asgore, the meals at least didn't end in the kitchen being consumed in flame.

Glancing behind her, Frisk gazed at the road behind them, the tree they'd stepped out from behind the only one in the yard. "I can't wait to figure out how you do that," she said, turning her gaze to the skeleton at her side. He just laughed, leading her up to the front door.

"Kid, it'll take you a few years to figure out HOW I did it. But doin' it isn't that hard. Get some trainin' from Undyne, and you'll manage it." He winked at her. "Remember my book?" He asked with a teasing grin.

"I want to forget," she complained, one hand rising to her temples. "I got about eighteen deep before I gave up on it."

"Eighteen? Wow, kid, most people stop around four. Then again, I shouldn't be surprised that you'd be the one to go farther than anyone else." He chuckled, then raised his hand and rapped on the door.

"Who is it?" Called Alphys's voice from somewhere near the back of the house. Frisk could almost hear her making her way through the building.

"Latin," Sans called back, altering his voice with a hand over his mouth.

"Latin... who?" Alphys called, a frown clear in her voice. If she realized her mistake, it was too late to correct it.

"Latin us in would be nice, Alphys," Sans replied, his hand dropping. The door lock rattled, the door opened, and the diminutive yellow fire drake stalked out, reaching up to swat at Sans with a soft-cover book. Judging by the bright colors on it, it was a manga.

"That was bad and you should feel bad," Alphys huffed, before her eyes found Frisk and she grinned. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around the human, hugging tight. "Frisk! It's good to see you! Papyrus has been here all night trying to-"

"Is that Frisk?!" Called a voice from the back, rough from a lifetime of shouting. Undyne was there in seconds; dressed in her usual black tanktop, jeans and boots, she would look normal... Were it not for the look of desperation on her face. "Frisk! Tell him I'll train you! He hasn't stopped begging since he showed up last night! I had to lock him in the closet to get any sleep, and he got out this morning!"

Right on the mermaid's heels came Papyrus, his white armor shining in the light, his scarf catching some of the breeze. "Do you mean it, Undyne?!" He asked, grinning.

"Yes, I mean it! You can go home now, Papyrus, I'll do it!"

"Nyeh-heh-heh!" Papyrus exclaimed. Sometimes, Frisk wasn't sure if it were his laugh, or just a kind of tic he had. "Another win for the great Papyrus!"

Sans grinned, walking over to grab Papyrus's hand. "C'mon, buddy. We should let them figure things out before you get involved in training, too."

"I suppose," Papyrus started, pausing as he frowned thoughtfully. "Oh, I know! I can make Frisk that spaghetti now! Come along, Brother; I, the great Papyrus, have an obligation to fulfill!" The taller skeleton very nearly dragged Sans away, rushing towards the road. He only had a chance to glance back at Frisk and wink before Papyrus had pulled him out of sight, leaving all three in bemused silence.

"Well, that was..." Alphys began, before a massive sigh of relief issued forth from Undyne.

"I love the big lug," she said, leaning against the house, "But sometimes it's like, like... You know?"

Frisk just nodded and smiled, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets. "So, he came here last night and just started pestering you?" She asked, smiling wryly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen."

"It's not your fault," Undyne said, waving the apology off and giving her trademark grin. "But you know, if I'm gonna train you, you're not gonna have it easy. Every morning before school, every afternoon after, and every night before bed; you're going to work your butt off until I say otherwise. Got it?"

Frisk stared at her for a second, uncertainty tugging at the very corner of her heart. Then **Determination** steadied her confidence, and she managed a cocky grin in return. "I've got it. So long as you know that I'm going to keep working until I can beat you, too!"

Undyne laughed, reaching over to slap Frisk's shoulder. "That-a girl! Alright, let's go! Alphys, get drinks ready; Frisk here's not going to rest until she falls over! Frisk, let's see how many laps around the house you can manage! Let's go!"

Frisk was off in a second, moving at something between a sprint and a jog. She knew that this was going to be rough, knew it was going to wear her out something awful. But she also knew that by the time she had finished Undyne's training, whenever that was, she wasn't going to be pushed around by strong humans. _I just hope I survive,_ she thought with a wry smile.

 _If it gets to be too much, I can filet a fish._

She almost stumbled to a halt as that thought flashed through her mind, her smile forgotten. She didn't; she knew Undyne'd know if she slowed, so she kept moving. But that thought.. It didn't feel right. It felt slimy and cold and cruel, so unlike how she normally thought, how her words normally sounded in her head. The only time she'd ever heard a voice quite like it had been...

Had been in her _dream._ Swallowing, the girl took as deep a breath as she could manage. She wasn't going to run from those thoughts, or pretend they weren't there. When she saw Sans next, she'd explain them. And whatever happened, she resolved on two things. First, she would never do what those thoughts seemed to urge, what that dream had shown. Not if she had to jump off _another_ cliff to avoid it.

And she _would_ find out why these thoughts, that dream... Why all of it was surfacing now. She would find out. And she would fix the problem.

A/N: H'OKAY! So, to be perfectly frank, I'd intended this chapter to be about ten pages, but at the point I'm adding this Author's Note, it's only about eight and a tiny bit of change. For that, I apologize sincerely; you guys deserve ever word I can put out. Unfortunately, this was as many as I could put out for this chapter. I suppose there's a bit of a curve for both myself and Whisperfen, him as entirely new to Fanfiction, and myself as someone who's used to shorter, more radical chapters. I'm trying to draw things out with this story, make things more organic, but it's proving uncomfortably difficult. But not to worry! I, the Great Lost Cookie, shall overcome this obstacle soon enough, and give you all the chapters you deserve! Nyeh-heh-heh!

I gotta say, though, I have some issues with how I linked things together for this chapter, but on the whole, I'm quite happy with how it came out. I hope you all enjoy it too, and of course, any criticism is welcomed. I think I know what kind of schedule myself and Whisper will be coming up with. Each of us will be taking two weeks or so to write our chapters, and if all goes well, the chapters will be staggered in such a way that you guys see a new chapter every week. At least, that's the ideal I've set for myself; Whisper, of course, has his own style and time limits.

Alright, so this should be going up on the 18th. If so, then my next post will be out, at the latest, on the 2nd of May. However, if I finish it earlier, I'm not going to wait before posting; I'll throw it out immediately, provided it's after Whisper's chapter goes up. That's all for now, then, I guess~ Take care everyone, and as always, Stay Determined!

~Cookie


	5. Chapter 4: A Dreamer Lost

The mythical 'dark star'. From a scientific phenomenon, a star so dense that it trapped even light within its gravitation pull, to the more fantastic and legendary stories of a black star in the night sky, Humans and Monsters alike had spoken of the 'dark star' since time immemorial. None of them had ever thought, mortal and immortal alike, that they would ever cast eyes on it.

Asriel stared up at the sky, his fur rustling softly in the surprisingly gentle wind, and seemed almost entranced, his gaze locked on the distant clouds above. He didn't know why he was staring at the sky, nor why he was shivering underneath his heavy fur, nor even why he could not move his limbs, but he knew that he had to watch. He couldn't miss it.

With his vision locked on the sky, Asriel had little to do besides take inventory and try, desperately, to figure out what had happened. He knew that he smelled something, something burnt, on the air, and he knew that he felt...taller, simply larger in general, than he remembered. He also realized, as though the world and his body alike responded to his very thoughts, that every moment he spent watching the sky through eyes that almost seemed alien to the rest of his body, veins of light seemed to spark across his vision. Even the grey clouds were colorful to a degree, but that very detail was what allowed the prince to see what was truly wrong.

The sky was black.

It wasn't the darkness of an eclipse, nor the inky depth of night, but a kind of all consuming shadow that seemed to roll across the sky without ever touching the clouds. Asriel realized, very quickly, that it wasn't the sky that was black, rather, it was that the sky was perfectly clear.

Thousands, tens of thousands, of twinkling stars shone in the black depths of space, each one giving off a multi-colored light that would've seemed bedazzling were they any closer to Earth. Though they were beautiful, it was not these stars that drew his attention. As though he was watching a memory through his own eyes, reliving something old rather than playing out something new, the prince watched as his arm rose and he pointed a single, clawed, finger at the sky, drawing the attention of those around him to the blackened sky.

The sky was black, but it was not alone in its darkness. The moon was gone, the Earth lit by nothing more than the burning fires of war and devastation that seemed to surround them all, yet neither did the sun show its beautiful visage. There was no warming glow to combat the cold chill of the plains, there was no kind radiance to hold back the dark of night, for the sun itself embodied all that was dark and shadowed. The sun was black.

Around Asriel there stood many others, many that seemed to have their eyes trained on his towering form. He could feel their souls resonating with his own, he could feel their hearts pounding in their chests, their hopes and their dreams weighing on his shoulders as his voice rumbled out through the night air. "Look what they have brought upon themselves, my fellows, children of the Earth!", he cried, a boiling terror rising in his chest at the hard growl in his own voice. Was this what he would become...? "Look at what their foolishness has wrought, and know that we yet stand. Know that we are yet alive, powerful! Know that we will **not** bow!"

As his voice carried out across the night winds, its tenor seeming to echo along the mountain's twisting turns and the plains below, Asriel turned his gaze to the one that stood ever at his side. There she was, the woman he knew that he loved. She stood as graceful and elegant as an robed angel, yet the fire in her eyes and shining motes of fire around her crowned head spoke of a willful defiance that yet burned within her breast. His heart resonated with hers, and Asriel suddenly realized that it was not his heart that seemed to love his mother so. "Words of defiance, my love, but words well deserved, for I fear they will never learn.." Toriel's voice was calm and kind, as compassionate as he'd always remembered, but it was also grim, hard, and filled with something else. Anger? Hatred? He'd never heard either in his mother's voice, but...

"Never fear, my dear one.", Asriel's body replied, a hand stroking across her cheek, "This is their choice, a choice we must simply see through. In time, perhaps, there shall be peace, but it will not be this night." Asriel felt a sense of disdain mixed with grief tug at his eyes, a feeling of revulsion and sadness that he'd never thought he would feel. Why couldn't they just coexist? What was happening that was so terrible? What had happened to start this? Why? Why was there was no answer to be had?

Toriel sighed beside him, her free hand's clawed fingers entwining with his own. "It didn't have to be this way, we gave them that choice, didn't we?" Her tone was somber, but it was also unforgiving. That wasn't a word he had ever associated with his mother. "If this is their answer, then so be it, we will fight for our homes too."

It was as he tried to nod, his body more acting on its own will than his mind's, that a crackling wail split the night air. As all eyes turned to the sky once more, and the ball of flaming stone that hurtled towards them, Asriel, strangely, felt no fear. Even as his mother flinched, his fingers clenching around hers in reassurance, an amethyst bolt sped out of the darkness from behind them, its bladed tip piercing the stone's flaming heart in a spectacular explosion of heated stone shards, smoke, and steam.

"It's time to move, your majesties. They won't take kindly t'me shootin' down their rocks over and over." The voice came from Asriel's right, his eyes slowly tracking across the land below to meet the glowing golden eyes of a being that, though he couldn't see her face for her helmet, seemed all too much like a guards-woman he knew very well.. "The others're ready to go whenever."

Asriel's body, again, nodded, his eyes turning slowly back to the sky. "Then it would seem it is time to take our leave, this war will be fought another day, on more even ground." As his body spoke, a name flitted through Asriel's mind, a name that brought an unwanted wave of hatred and fear with it. Alric. Lord Alric DeMontaigne. **He** was the one, the one responsible for this. Asriel knew it and a deadly fire swelled within his veins as his body turned away from the carnage of its own volition.

It was as his eyes took in those that watched them, their people, **his** people, that he finally understood. With a crimson trident in hand, and Queen Toriel Dreemurr at his side, Asriel strode the same path his father had taken so long before, his body calm even as his mind screamed for it, all of it, to end.

It was to the smell of burning hair and the sound of hurried footsteps that Asriel Dreemurr awoke from his slumber, his throat raw and bloodied from screaming his defiance. At first his eyes saw nothing but blind darkness, the light of mote of fire clashing with the sudden feeling of something cold and wet on his hands. He was being taken, carried, by someone strong, someone unafraid, away from the comforting darkness, into the light. The prince winced, burying his eyes against a furred chest through which an ancient heart pounded with due terror.

"Be still my child, please.", Toriel's voice came to the young prince, his ears perking at the sound even if his eyes refused to open. He attempted to stiffen up, to be the good little boy for his loving mother, but as his body woke up so did the pain return.

It was a pain unlike anything he had ever felt before, a pain to rival even the agony of dying again, and again, and again at the hands of the one person he could never, truly, hurt. Even that paled in comparison, as though this pain was different, worse, and threatened to boil his very veins with the ichor that flowed through them.

Asriel cried out in pain and fear as his mother cradled him, her feet quickly carrying her down the village's empty streets. The cold morning air did nothing to help the boy, his sobs echoing throughout the darkened village even as the sun eked its way over the distant horizon. Asriel cried out at every bump and jolt, he cried out as a he felt his mother's own tears fall across his fur, he even cried out as he felt a cold nothingness embrace both him and Toriel in equal measure, then he realized that he couldn't breathe.

Panic rose in the boy's burning chest no matter how hard his numb limbs struggled, breath would not come no matter how much his hoarse voice cried for mercy, and for just a single moment he knew the same fear all those that had met his beloved father, the King, had known. It was the clawing fear that grasped at one's heart as the darkness closed in, yet all he could do was thank his dear mother for finally taking his pain away.

* * *

 _ **'Good morning, prince~'**_ The unwelcome voice that hissed in Asriel's ear was loud enough to awaken him once more, the Pwqa sitting up with a start as his eyes scanned around his bedside. Rather than the room he had come to know and love, he found himself sitting bolt upright in a tent he had pitched the night previous. The rain was still falling outside, a cold chill permeating his fur deep enough to reach his bones, yet still he remained alone. His guide had already departed, of course, which meant that his...thoughts, were simply running loose again. That would not do.

The prince put a hand to his head, massaging the ache that lay behind his eyes even as he tried to rise and stretch his legs. His short frame made it easy to move around in small spaces, but he knew that he still had to be careful; Undyne would never forgive him if she saw it in such a state, but he had never been very good at pitching tents.

The air that reached Asriel's nose was ripe with the scent of freshly fallen rain, something Frisk had once called it 'petrichor', and the muddied earth, a scent entirely pleasing to the young Pwqa's senses. It was a beautiful day, the cold wetness aside; it was, in fact, almost beautiful enough for Asriel to forget his near constant nightmares and the voices that haunted his dreams. No, not just his dreams, he realized. The voices, the hissing tones and quiet whispers on the edge of his conscious mind, the constant companion in his every waking moment, the reason he...

Asriel sighed. There was little use dwelling on such matters, Sans had taught him that whether the old skeleton had meant to or not, and, besides, the fire wasn't going to build itself, was it? Picking up the thin bed cover he'd taken and cut, rather skillfully he thought, into a sort of makeshift cloak, the prince pulled the cloth around his shoulders and ducked out of his ramshackle shelter.

The second it hit him the bitter cold rain was many times worse than any chill in the air, but, a tiny shiver running throughout his body, Asriel grit his teeth and continued onwards out into the small ravine he had come to call home. Even though he'd left Mount Ebott far behind, the nearly picturesque little hill the prince had stopped at the previous night was all too reminiscent of the ancient mountain's gorgeous vistas, so much so that Asriel could almost imagine himself finding, and falling victim to, the very same hole that Frisk had fallen into when she began her journey through the Underground. That would've been ironic in a way, but, so the prince whispered to himself, perhaps also deserved.

 _'At least then I wouldn't be able to hurt anyone...'_ The whispers that softly left his lips as his eyes scanned the ground for fallen timber of any kind were, in a way, worse than the ones that consistently invaded his dreams. At least those he could ignore, those he could hold at bay if he really tried, but it was far harder to shut himself up. _'She should have. If she had...I..'_ Even though he believed it with, almost, all of his heart, Asriel couldn't quite bring himself to finish the thought. Leaving had been his decision, hadn't it? A decision fueled by love and compassion, so he told himself to fall asleep at night, though he had the distinct feeling that no one back home felt that way; somehow, that hurt more than the twisting scars he bore thanks to his own weakness.

Wincing as he reached to pick up a large stick, the bandages along his arms, legs, and chest crinkling across the angry wounds they covered, the prince had to fight back a whimper. It was hard to hold it in sometimes, incredibly hard, but he did most of the time thanks to the simple words one of his mentors had said to him before he left. The ever stoic, and terrifyingly cheerful, captain of the guard had told him, "Don't ever let 'em see you wince 'r whine, kiddo. That's just askin' fer trouble you don't want or need." He'd taken her advice to heart, but that didn't mean he'd be able to follow it forever. Asriel was no Undyne when it came down to his emotions. ' _ **Not that you ever could've been, you pathetic whelp.'**_

The sudden hiss in his ear was like a physical bolt of pain to the Pwqa's mind, a shot in the dim morning that almost knocked him off balance on the slippery ground. _'I really should've brought boots..'_ It was just about all he could do to keep the mundane thoughts at the forefront of his mind, but at least those kept the voices at bay. For the moment.

Forcing himself to place one foot in front of the other, a challenge in and of itself even without the constant pain thanks to how slippery the muddy hillside had become, Asriel bent over and picked up yet another fallen branch. None of the ones he'd stuffed under his arm were all that big, the entire pile would be needed to keep him warm through the rain, but at least the water saturating them made them cold, a feeling far more welcome through his bandages than it was running up and down his spine.

It was nearly an hour of walking through the gently pouring rain before Asriel finally felt like he had enough material to start a fire worth putting effort into, the young prince finding his way back to his ramshackle campsite as quickly as he could without losing his balance. The handful of times he slipped aside, each time bringing tears to his eyes as jolts of burning pain shot through his scarred body, he made it back with relative ease, the sticks, twigs, and smaller branches earning their place off to one side of the shelter's small, but cozy, interior. Even though he'd never once made a fire with his own two hands, let alone made one out of wet wood when he could barely even _feel_ his hands in the first place, Asriel wasn't especially worried about his chances. If Frisk, a frail human child by all accounts, could survive every challenge the Underground threw at her? If she could even survive...him? Then how could he possibly complain when he had it so, comparatively, easy? He couldn't, it was as simple as that.

The prince hunkered down, wincing as his bandages pulled at the wounds underneath, and slowly squeezed the water out of what little of his fur wasn't covered by the cloak or bandages, a measure necessary if he wasn't going to catch some kind of dreadful illness from the weather. ' _ **Are you really being the smart little prince, Asriel? Or are you just delaying the inevitable? It's not like anyone would care if you died out here, all alone, in the wild.'**_

A sudden, snappish, growl escaping his throat, the young Pwqa choked back a cough that threatened to draw yet more tears from his eyes, each convulsion causing him yet more pain. A part of him knew that the voice was wrong, that it was something...evil, something he should never listen to. A part of him knew that very well and he was lucky enough that it was a vocal part of his mind, but another part, an increasingly powerful part, actually agreed. It didn't think he was unwanted or hated, no, but it did agree that he was in pain, that there was little chance of anyone being able to help him if even his mother hadn't been able to, and it agreed that it would be so, very, easy to just close his eyes and let go.

For just a brief moment, the darker voice heard this, and changed its tune.

 _ **'Think about that, little prince. Wouldn't it be nice to feel better, finally? To not ache and sting?'**_ The voice's almost concerned hissing had become so monotone in Asriel's mind that he almost didn't notice its presence, but he did notice its words. _'But...what about..mom? And...dad? What about...'_

 _ **'FRISK? That was what you were going to ask, wasn't it? What about your dear, little, Frisk**_ _ **?'**_

Asriel could only nod in response, a deep shiver running through his shoulders as he pulled his cloak closer. The rain was coming much harder, drops finally beginning to worm their way through his shelter's piecemeal roof.

 _ **'What about her? She let you go, she left you behind just like the others did. You're a freak to them, little prince, an abomination that shouldn't be alive, but you are. Why perpetuate this pitiful, agonizing, existence?'**_

Asriel whimpered quietly, his facade of strength finally beginning to crack. _'But I'm Determined too...Undyne said so..'_ Even though every response seemed to take more and more out of him, Asriel continued arguing with the other voice, the stubbornness that Undyne had so often said was admirable showing through in spades. _'She said I could...be something...something other than a...prince..'_

Rather than immediately biting back, the voice took a pause, the silence lingering in Asriel's mind like an entirely unwelcome blanket of fog. The silence, however, was not to last, but nor was its return something to rejoice in.

With a blinding shock of pain that ran from Asriel's eyes to his spine, a burning tendril stretching out across every scar on his young body, the prince teetered in place, his hands too numb to do anything but lay idly across his lap as his balance failed. ' _ **You're almost cute, kid. Almost.'**_ , the voice hissed as the Pwqa finally gave in, his weight collapsing to one side, ' _ **Now be a good boy and just die already.'**_ Asriel could not argue, nor fight, nor do anything but give in, his mind, finally, complying; it was so easy to just forget about the pain once his eyes closed and the darkness settled in, so easy, in fact, that he didn't even notice the cold chill spreading from his spine to encompass his slowing heart.

Nor did the young, frail, prince notice the arms closing around his tiny form as the ichor threatened to freeze in his veins, arms as cold as ice yet as gentle as a loving mother's comforting embrace.

* * *

The first breath that left Asriel's body was a choking one, one filled with as much saliva as it was wheezing pain and a barely coherent whine. The Pwqa started when he realized that he was awake again, his memories slowly returning even as the warmth of the room he was in washed over his prone form. It was almost too much for his weakened body to even roll over on its side, but roll he did, all the pain of the scars across his ribs eliciting a sobbing whimper from the boy. He was barely even awake and the pain had already returned in spades, some part of his weary, exhausted, mind had to wonder if the voice he remembered hearing had been speaking more wisdom than he gave it credit for back then.

 _'Back then...?'_

The question rolled through his thoughts even as his body shivered against the warmth, absorbing any and all heat like a sponge took in so much water. He didn't know how, or why, but he knew that time had passed, a great deal of time, and he knew that his joints were stiff enough to not have been used in...quite a while. It was not until he finally opened his eyes, the lids stuck to one another with a yellowed crust, that he had any concept of just how long it had been, not to mention how, apparently, lucky he was.

 _'How...how am I...alive..?'_

Asriel stared down, sideways, at his hands and arms, his head resting against the comparatively cold stone floor of whatever structure he was inside. His shirt was gone, as was his cloak, and his limbs, his chest, even the part of his legs not covered by a thin blanket were nightmarish in appearance. Covered in dried, drying, and still barely oozing golden ichor, the foggy black and angry crimson of burnt bone and scorched flesh broken by only the occasional, scattered, clump of ichor matted fur, Asriel would've looked like some unnatural creation or unholy abomination to any normal person. To his eyes? He could only wonder how his heart still beat its pounding beat in his chest.

" _Yet beat it does, little princeling."_ The voice that echoed through the room sent a shiver down Asriel's spine, but this shiver was not the familiar chill of a cold rain or biting wind. This was something new, something different, and Asriel did not like it in the least. _"Turn, face me."_ , the voice droned, its tone both ancient and devoid of all the things that made living beings sound...alive, _"Pain is fleeting, little one. I may help you yet, but you must first act. Prove yourself."_

Asriel didn't want to do it. Every bone and nerve fiber in his body that wasn't on fire, and even some of the ones that were, screamed at him that rolling over was a bad idea, but something else, a tiny voice in the back of his head, said that there was something familiar about the being's dull tone.

Groaning, wishing with every ounce of his being that he wasn't awake, Asriel pushed himself up on one arm and slowly sat up straight. His eyes were barely open but he could tell, beyond a shadow of doubt, that he was in some kind of cave, the smooth tan walls reflecting the dim orange light and life giving heat of a nearby fire. It was not the fire, as Asriel's eyes scanned across the room, that caught his attention, however, but the being that sat beside it. They were human, he was fairly sure of that from the lack of fur on their hands or a tail, but he could see little of their scarred and time wrinkled face, the darkness of their cloak's hood defying even the fire's flickering light.

" _Good. You possess the will to move past your pain."_ However lifeless it sounded, there was one thing about their voice that Asriel knew he hadn't been wrong about; it was old, wizened in a way, but it also seemed to be strangely...ethereal. It didn't quite match up with the way their shadowed lips moved, as though their body was present but their words were somewhere else entirely. They may have been human, but they were something else as well.

"Who...who are you..?", the prince asked, his voice barely more than a high croak, "H-how...my thoughts... Did you.."

The being barely shifted in their seat, two pale hands clasping together in the middle of their lap. "Hear them?", they finished, Asriel's mouth slowly closing in response, "Yes. Your thoughts are simple to hear, Prince Dreemurr, just as they were when I found you. You were dying, I brought you here to see if you would recover."

Asriel blinked slowly. "How...long..?"

"Eight days. Three before you stopped shivering, five before the incessant whining ceased. Here we are on the eighth." The being's tone never changed, everything stated as nothing more than mere fact. To say that it was unsettling would've been an understatement.

The prince processed his host's, and apparently savior's, answer slowly, trying to use the knowledge to make sense of his own jumbled memories. He remembered, strangely, very little from before the cold took him, even less from the eight days he'd spent recovering, but one thing stuck out clearly in his mind. It was a feeling of a caressing warmth, a comforting feeling that had all but melted away the frost on his bones and kept the wounds across his young body pure and clean.

"You...y-you took care of me.." Asriel almost didn't want to question the good fortune that had seemed to befall him, but he couldn't help feeling an equal sense of worry and suspicion. His mind was barely awake enough to contemplate either emotion, really, but there was just something...off. "Why..? Why did you...save me..?"

The being took only a moment's pause before letting out a long, slow, sigh, their head bowing further against the fire's light. _"I did not...do it for you, Prince Dreemurr."_ , they confessed, _"I did it because I need you. I need what you can give me, what makes you...you. Confusing, I know, but it is the truth."_

Asriel shrunk away from the light and its attendant, his eyes wincing against the pain of the stone scraping across his damaged skin. Whatever the being meant, it didn't sound especially friendly. "W-what...do you mean..? You're...not going to.."

The being shifted. _"Hurt you? No, no of course not."_ It was in that moment that the tiniest tell of emotion crept into their voice, a sort of barely audible smile. _"Why, Asriel..."_ , the being mused as they slowly looked up, finally locking their crimson eyes and all too wizened grin on the prince, _"Don't you recognize your best friend?"_

Asriel could do nothing but scream.

 ** _A/N: Hey all! Sorry for the slight delay on this one, but the muse only struck me very recently and I've been dealing with university exams. Thankfully I'll be wrapping those up this week, so it should be smooth sailing from here!_**

 ** _On another note, all the above potential mind-fuckery aside, Cookie's gone ahead and setup a twitter account for our shenanigans on here. So, if you want to ask either of us a question, or if you want to bug us about when the next adventure will be posted, just go look for AlostCookie on Twitter or follow this here link: /ALostCookie_**

 ** _Hopefully this is as well received as the last one, I look forward to continuing! See you all next time~_**

 _\- Whisperfen_


	6. Chapter 5: Frisk's Demons

"He's what?!"

Frisk's voice filled the small living room, where everyone from Toriel and Asgore to the skeleton brothers, Undyne and Alphys, and even Mettaton, were all standing. Evidently, nobody had wanted to give her this news alone, without anyone on hand to soothe her. Not that the measures they'd taken seemed to be doing much to assuage the panic in the girl's voice. The news she'd just gotten was about as bad as it got for her, the worst she could have expected... And she hadn't expected it at all, not in the least.

"Missing," Toriel repeated softly, those big, gentle eyes resting on the girl. She looked sad, and there was no small amount of fear in those hues, as well; if Frisk had taken the time to think about it, she might have realized that her Momster was as worried as she was, if not more so; after all, it seemed as though her second chance with her son had just been ripped away. But Frisk didn't think on it; indeed, for once thought of the others didn't cross her mind. She didn't wonder at the devastated expression on Asgore's face, nor the hopeless expression on her mother's; she didn't look to see the shared fear or sadness amongst the others. Instead, her gaze turned inward.

What thoughts went through her head in that instant... They were too tangled for her to sort out coherently. But they resulted in a decision. She was in the middle of a circle of her closest friends and family, but in that moment, she felt caged. So she pivoted on her heel and lunged. Undyne was the closest; her eye widened in shock, her arm reaching out to stop Frisk. But the human was fast, more fleet of foot than almost any other monster. With that speed, she ducked the arm she felt was blocking her. Two steps, then a tall skeleton was in her way. She heard sounds, voices?

She ignored them.

Instead she dropped into a roll, slipping neatly between Papyrus's legs. She came up out of the roll straight onto her feet, reaching forward to twist the knob on the door, then slamming her shoulder into it to throw it open. Then she was outside, out on the front lawn. It took only a couple of seconds to cover the distance from the door to the sidewalk, from there a mere second to reach the road.

A car horn blared in her ear, but she barely seemed to notice. Instead she jumped, turning to face the car and planting her foot on the hood. She didn't stiffen it; instead, she let the car's momentum push it towards her even as she moved to jump again. The result was instead of a vertical jump, she was sent into a forward roll while moving the same direction as the car. The world was a blur of motion, of mixed colors, then her booted feet found the street and she pitched forward, grinding away who knew how much of the tread of her boots to kill her motion; then she was off and sprinting again. Undyne, the quickest of those who reacted to the human's headlong flight, was just reaching the sidewalk when Frisk vanished into the woods surrounding the village the Monsters were fast turning into a city. Away, into the thick foliage...

* * *

 _Sticks and branches tore at her as she sprinted through the forest. With the rumors surrounding Mount Ebott, it was no surprise that there was virtually nothing man-made up here save old ruins, long overgrown by nature. Still, she was fast on her feet; she was small and **Determined** , and so she made much better time than her pursuers. She kept racing uphill, listening to the sounds of pursuit, of men crashing through foliage. Even with her advantage, they were so _close _to her..._

 _She ran blindly, hands shoving foliage out of the way. Her foot caught on something, and she pitched forward with a cry. She landed hard on her front, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. She lay there wheezing for just a few seconds._

 _Too long._

 _She heard the man closing in, heard him announce that he'd found her. She struggled to her hands and knees, heard him coming up behind her. Her hand grasped at something, something hard and rough under her fingers. With a cry, she rolled onto her back, lashing out. Her arm met resistance, and the man cried out a curse as he staggered back. She'd tried begging, being kind; nothing worked. She wasn't going back._

 _She clutched the object in her hand, climbing to her feet and taking off at a sprint once more. But this was one that ended all too soon, at the edge of a large hole. There were only sheer rock faces surrounding it, save the path she'd taken. She turned, fear putting a hitch in her breathing. The man stumbled into the small clearing, a hand wiping at his cheek. A second later, two of his friends joined him._

" _Give it up, girly, you're ours fair 'n square!" The man on her right said. She shook her head, took a step back. Her heel knocked pebbles loose; she didn't hear them hit for a long time. "Come on, girly. Let's-"_

 _She shook her head again, her **Determination** solidifying around her thoughts. She cast the men a single, defiant look... And fell back. _

_As she fell, she watched the circle of light grow smaller. And she noticed the object she'd picked up, falling just a few inches from her open fingers. A stick. Of course it had been._

 _Then all was pain and darkness._

* * *

She ducked under a limb, her breathing loud in her ears. It was quick and short, panicked like it hadn't been for so long. Everything was a blur of green and brown; her brain read the distorted view with an instinctual speed, finding the gaps like she never had when she'd run, before she'd ever found the underground. She'd been a simple girl, perhaps a bit more stubborn than others. Now she was... Different. Still human, but not simple. She hopped over a tree trunk, turned sideways to slip between a pair of saplings big enough to bar her way. Her feet were confident, certain, each step propelling her forward.

Then her blurred vision of green and brown was interrupted by blue, and she was running headlong into a hard body, a grunt leaving whoever had intercepted her. She cried out, shocked more than injured as she landed atop her pursuer in a messy pile. It wasn't until she looked down, saw the grinning skull staring back, that she realized what had happened. Sans had taken a Shortcut. She tried to roll off him, tried to go sprinting again, but Sans's arms went around her, pulling her against him.

And she realized everything was a blur because there were tears in her eyes. So she blinked them away, only for them to return. A distant, more mature part of her whispered that they shouldn't be wasting their time, but the rest of her submitted to the comfort of another's touch. Clutching at Sans's shirt, she buried her face against his chest and sobbed. And as she cried, she said something, again and again. And Sans replied, or perhaps simply responded, but for so long she was too lost to focus.

When she did, her words slowed to a halt, but she realized what she'd been repeating. "He's gone again," she murmured at long last, one last repeat. She drew back, her eyes turning to Sans's. "We- He's only been here a year, Sans... He was only free for a year, and now..."

"I know," he said, ruffling her hair slowly. "I know, kid. We both worked our butts off for the furball. But he's not gone for good; y'know him, he'll be trying to do things on his own."

"But he doesn't have to," Frisk protested, her voice shaking slightly, as though she were on the verge of more tears. That, more than anything, startled the girl. Why was it so easy to get upset about this and not the many other things she'd encountered since leaving the Underground? "If he'd only asked, I would have-"

"He knows, and that's probably why he didn't ask," Sans interrupted, starting to smooth her hair down now that he'd mussed it. "You've seen how the kid looks at ya; he feels you've got a job to do, and he doesn't want to be the one to push you to not doin' it. And he's right there, at least; you're the ambassador. Sort've a big deal, hmm?"

"I guess," she murmured, her thoughts rebelling against the idea that she couldn't have followed. "But-"

"Don't worry, kid," Sans interrupted again, before interrupting himself to laugh at her expression. "Sorry, sorry. But you shouldn't tear yourself up over this. He made his own decision... And you tied yourself pretty tightly to him, kid. I mean, a piece of your own soul? Can't get much tighter than that. Think about that one for a second; the kid's got a little of what made you special. Hell, he's got a little of what made every human that came down here special. He's got one hell of a goat- sorry, ghost riding his shoulder, if even half of what you told me about Flowey's true, but he's not gonna fall to that. Kid's got a strong sense of **Justice** , **Bravery** to put most all of us to shame, the **Perseverance** to push through any struggle, the **Kindness** to help anyone he can... Hell, he's even got the **Integrity** to keep to his own truth and the **Patience** to take his time to do what needs to be done... All the things that come together in your sheer **Determination** to a goal. Not to mention a bit of that **Determination** itself."

He paused, noticing the expression on her face, concern mingled with a note of fear. "If ya don't believe me, try closing your eyes. Picture Asriel in your head. What do you feel?"

Frisk stared at him for a few seconds, then obediently closed her eyes, bringing forth the image of Asriel as she'd last seen him, just a few days ago. Dressed in that sweater, the hints of bandages poking out from the sleeves. His horns were still tiny, but now they were growing again. Big blue eyes that had held both tears and a smile. And the golden pendent hanging from his neck on its fine chain, the locket opened to reveal the two pictures within. The first had been within when she'd found it, all too many resets ago in her first fight against Asgore. A picture of Asriel with his mother, father, and another human. Chara. His brother. The other was... A reminder.

And as all of those fragments became one image, she felt... A twinge. A distant pain, distress even. So distant she wasn't sure she could feel it at all, but just barely, tentatively there. Her eyes flew open, surprise evident in her expression.

Sans jumped, himself, his eyesockets widening ever so slightly before relaxing. "Neat trick," he said with a wry smile. "So, you felt something, huh?"

"I-is that... Is it actually Asriel?" She asked, unable to believe it.

"Probably," Sans said with a slight shrug, helping her to her feet at long last, then climbing to his own feet. "Your soul is unique compared to every other soul I've ever seen. Your **Determination** actually kept you from dying during a few of your fights, when you reached your limit but 'refused' to be done? Even though it's part of someone else now, you could say it refuses to only be theirs. That'd be just like you, kid, having it both ways even though it should be impossible." His grin widened, and he reached over to pat her head. "I don't know if it works both ways; I wasn't sure it worked one-way, and the only way to know would be to ask goat-boy himself."

"Which we can't do," Frisk muttered, sighing. "I get it." She paused, thoughtful. "But that means... He's alive, right? This way, I know he's alive?" The Skeleton nodded, and she managed a small smile. "Good..." Then she finally looked around, a her smile fading as her mind connected several dots. "W-wait, we're... Sans, this is-"

"The entrance to the Underground," Sans finished for her, turning to look behind him, at the short clearing that led up to the hole in the ground that had once locked the monsters away. "Yeah. Go figure you'd find your way here, huh?"

"I guess it's important to me," she murmured, thoughtful. "Is there anyone still down there?"

"Plenty, but mostly in the Capital. Now that space isn't a problem anymore, a lot of people are moving up here, and most of who's left are staying in the city until they can move up here, too. There are still a few people in Snowdin, but that's the only major settlement before the Core."

"I want to go down there," She announced abruptly, looking at Sans. "To the Whispering Caves. I have a wish."

Sans gazed at her for a moment, then chuckled and shrugged. "Alright, Kid," he said, before holding out his hand. "Come on. I know a shortcut."

* * *

Frisk was absent from school for the next several days, and several rumors cropped up that she and Asriel had run off together, for a wide array of reasons. When she finally returned, she managed to squash the rumors for the most part, though several hard-core rumor-makers kept them alive despite her assurances that she'd just retraced her path through the Underground. "As if I'd have left that Cinnamon Roll alone if I'd found him," She'd once laughed, drawing chuckles from those around her.

That afternoon, almost immediately after she got out of school, the girl was at Undyne's home, running next to Papyrus, doing push-ups, pull-ups, all the things that the human body was capable of but so many neglected. "You're not lifting weights, runt," Undyne had once said, "Because you don't need to. Humans are weaker in terms of muscles than Monsters, but you don't have to be as strong as us. You just gotta be as strong as you can be. I've seen people on the TV with muscles big as my kitchen sink 'n stuff. That's garbage muscle, all show. Y'can't do a lot with those muscles, and they get in the way. You don't need 'em, and you wouldn't look good with 'em. What I'm giving you are the muscles to do what you need to do. Muscles for action, like mine!"

She'd laughed, and Frisk had smiled. Then Papyrus had held up his photoshopped picture of himself with huge biceps that were wearing glasses, and both of them had devolved into giggles, managing to convince the skeleton they were laughing at a 'girl joke' and not at his photo. When both of them had recovered, Undyne sent her off on another jog, and as they went Undyne explained her spears to the girl.

Of course, Frisk couldn't summon one of the weapons on the same day she learned the theory behind them. Unlike fire magic, which was ambiguous, and healing magic, which was by its nature a helpful magic, creating the spears that Undyne used was solely a violent magic, violent in purpose if not directly in act. And so, Frisk's first day was a lot of sitting in place, concentrating on pulling water out of the air and succeeding in little more than giving herself a headache. She'd returned home that night physically and mentally exhausted, and though Toriel eased the pain in her body with healing, there was little to do for her mind but sleep.

But sleep would not be so pleasant tonight.

* * *

" _Turn off the camera," she said, watching as Asriel frowned, repeating her words. Nodding, she motioned for him to turn the camera off, and once he had, she motioned him closer. "I have an idea... I know how to free the monsters."_

" _Really?!" Asriel exclaimed, his blue eyes widening. She smiled, gazing at him for several seconds._

" _Yeah," She said, sitting forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "I got the idea when we made that pie for Dad. Remember?"_

" _Of course," Asriel said, his mood immediately dropping with the memory. "He got so sick... It's a good thing we only used a few Buttercups. If we'd put in any more..."_

" _Yeah, but that's my idea. I'll eat buttercups, a bunch of them, so that I don't recover-"_

" _But, Ch-"_

" _I'm not done, Asriel, hold on!" She smiled at him, waiting until he nodded before continuing. "I'll eat a bunch of buttercups, and then I'll... Die. But that's where you come in. After I'm gone, you can take my soul, one monster soul and one human soul so you can cross the barrier. Then, when you're on the other side... You can take my body to my village. And you can get six more human souls there, take them. They're terrible people, anyway; they don't deserve their souls. So, you take six more souls from them, then go back and break the Barrier and set everyone free."_

" _I don't like this plan," Asriel said, a number of conflicting emotions on his face._

 _She reached out, patting his shoulder. "Don't worry, Asriel, no matter what happens, I'll always be with you. Come on, let's get home. We'll start tomorrow."_

" _A-alright... Chara..."_

* * *

 _She felt weak, her stomach revolting at the mere idea of food. She heard their voices in the distance, vague and uncertain things, but it seemed so... Unimportant to her right now. Her vision, the view of the ceiling, was hazy at best, when it existed at all. Her mind was fuzzy, and only one thought continued dancing through her mind._ Free the Monsters. _She repeated those words like a mantra. That was what this was all for, after all; who cared about humans? They were disgusting, depraved, cruel beings. But Monsters... Monsters didn't deserve the cruel fate that Humanity had forced upon them. They deserved freedom. They deserved to see the sky, not forever looking to a ceiling and pretending it was the sky._

" _Don't give up, Chara," Asgore murmured in her ear. "Stay Determined...!" She almost managed a grim smile... Almost._ I am determined, father, _she thought, feeling her thoughts growing harder to keep track of, scattering with increasing ease._ Determined to give you the freedom you all deserve... _Everything was growing so hard to keep hold of. Time passed, she was sure, and yet... "Asriel," she murmured, pulling together every scrap of strength she had. "T-take me... To see the flowers at home... One last time..."_

 _And then her eyes opened. But they weren't her eyes, and she hadn't opened them. It was a sensation she was greatly uncomfortable with, but with a glance down at her white-furred hands, realization hit. This was it! They had done it, she was one with Asriel, and they could free the monsters! She wanted to cheer, but the body didn't cheer. Asriel didn't cheer; he cried._ You crybaby, _she thought with an imagined roll of her eyes._ I'm right here. Get it together, and get moving. _But he didn't... For almost half an hour, the big crybaby just cried, cried next to the thing that had used to be her body-_

 _For a second, she felt a strange disconnect. That body wasn't hers. In more ways than one. It was so pale, so empty. And the eyes were closed! When would she ever keep her eyes closed with someone being so noisy nearby?_

 _Then her arms- Asriel's arms- reached out, slipping under her body's shoulders and knees. He stood, rising disconcertingly far. How tall had they gotten?! "Come on, Chara," he whispered, lifting the body and pressing his face to the body's chest, eyes closing for several minutes. Then he straightened, and she felt the sudden rush of Determination. "Let's get you home."_

 _The trip through the barrier was a disconcerting rush of black and white, swirling and shifting and changing in an almost sickening display. When it solidified, it was with the sun behind them, high enough for it to be something close to midmorning. They made their way down the mountain, moving slowly, careful not to drop the body of their best friend, their brother. The whole time, she wanted to yell at him, tell him to leave her body, just go gather the souls! But she couldn't; there was no speaking, not that she could tell. So she remained, fuming quietly, every shout a whisper in her own mind._

 _The village was just as she remembered it; a small cluster of twelve or fourteen homes, a large tree in the middle surrounded by golden flowers._ That damn gorse grew everywhere _, she thought with a roll of her metaphysical eyes,_ even places where it doesn't belong. _Asriel carried her body towards those flowers, and with a start she remembered her last, fevered words._ No, you big crybaby! I was talking with death, there's no way I wanted you to actually _do_ this! _But her words couldn't reach him. He crouched amidst the flowers, down on his knees._

 _Then came the screams and cries. He looked up, startled; she felt the adrenaline in his system. It took only seconds for the humans to bring out bows, yelling at him for killing a human. A 'bloody monster.' And she felt... Pity. Not her own; she was disgusted, and moreover enraged at these people who blamed gentle Asriel for her death. But Asriel... he pitied them. And even as he lifted her body again, even as arrows were loosed, he didn't strike out. He had the power; he had more power than any of them could imagine. But he didn't kill them as they deserved. He... Spared them, turned his back on them and showed mercy. And arrows riddled his body._

 _Throughout the climb, she felt his body going numb, and her emotions were torn between heartbreak that this was happening to Asriel, that he was so hurt he might die, and seething, bubbling fury at the humans that had done this._ Go back to Toriel, _She wanted to scream._ She can heal you! Go! _But he didn't run. He didn't_ run _. He staggered his way to the barrier, stumbled through. Staggered into the throne room, so near to where his parents were... And slowly, he fell to his knees. Her body slipped from his arms, and he sat heavily. There was a clatter from the doorway, the captain of the Royal Guard finding him. Running._

" _I can't..." he murmured, pain rioting through her body. There was sound, shouts. Arms around him. A distant warmth. "Mommy," he whimpered, just barely seeing their faces. "Daddy... I-I can't... I can't feel... Any... Thing..."_

 _Then the world tore apart around her. Pain ripped through her body, and she screamed, her voice echoing in silence. Agony ripped through her very soul, and she thrashed in the vast emptiness. Then the agony faded, and she managed to see... To open her eyes. She had eyes? What she saw made no sense. She stood directly in front of... Herself- Himself. Another Chara. They stared at each-other, straight into each-other's cinnamon-colored eyes. Anger bubbled in her- his- stomach, anger at the people who had done this to them, to Asriel... But the other Chara... He was so..._ cold. _Like a dead thing, but still breathing. Then the world, and this other Chara, faded into darkness..._

* * *

Frisk awoke with a barely-contained scream, her butterscotch-hued eyes wide open. She was in her room, alone, and apparently she'd managed to keep from screaming whilst she slept. She was alone, and the house was silent. Scrambling off the bed and to her feet, she switched on the lamp next to her bed and rushed to the full-length mirror in one corner of her room.

She looked into it, and breathed a sigh of relief. She was still herself; dark auburn hair, butterscotch eyes, lightly tanned skin and all. Dressed not in the lime-green sweater of her dream, but a simple blue t-shirt large enough to hang like a dress on her, the Delta Rune emblazoned on the front. And she looked _alive,_ not cold and _wrong_ like-

Chara.

Well... Damn.

Sitting on her bed, the girl stared at the wall, ignoring the whispers of pain in her body. Closing her eyes, she pieced together a picture of Asriel, adding not just images but feelings, opinions. How she felt about every trait, from the nubs of his horns to the shades of his eyes. And when the last piece fell into place, she felt the connection. It was just as weak as it had been before, far and distant, and this time there wasn't even the sense of distress. She could swear she 'heard' a heartbeat, but there were few, if any, emotions coming to her from without. She let the image fall away, the painstaking process falling apart as her concentration lapsed.

"He's alive," she assured herself, her hand rising to her chest, touching at her chest before flinching away, remembering that there was nothing there now. Folding her hand into a fist, she gazed at her fingers, the tension in the tendons of her wrist. Then her hand fell, and she let out a soft sigh. "Asriel," she murmured, butterscotch hues turning to the window, staring into the night beyond. "You'd better come back, Cinnamon Bun... I didn't make that wish for nothing."

Reaching over, she clicked the lamp off and crawled back under the covers.

* * *

 _She sat up, pain radiating throughout her body. She blinked, slowly, looking down at herself, slowly flexing her free hand. Then she looked up, towards the ceiling._ I'm alive, _she thought, before shaking her head._ No... Not alive... But here. Because of...Her. _The girl who had fallen. After so many humans, humans she'd been vaguely aware of, someone had awakened her._

 _Him. Chara. Pushing himself to his feet, he plucked the stick up and looked it over. It'd do, until he got something better. He looked around, getting a feel for the place. He knew this place... The Ruins. Where he'd first fallen, so long ago. Fallen... He remembered his rage. Those idiots who had let Asriel die. Who had let the Underground waste away... And the humans above that had killed Asriel. All of them were so... Weak. So unworthy of life. And why had they cried for Asriel and not him? He'd been their son, too!_

 _Right?_

 _His hand clenched right around the stick as he made his way forward, following the path of his memory. Then..._

 _Flowey._

 _Flowey the flower._

" _Seriously?" He muttered to himself, disdain heavy in his tone. This was what he'd died for? To fail, even after giving his very soul? For his partner to die, without ever even trying to fulfill his part of the plan? He stepped out of the way of the seeds, his hand clenching almost painfully tight around the stick. He'd done all of this so that some little monster could presume to_ kill _him? This was the thanks the human son of the King and Queen got for everything he'd done?! Just like the people on the surface, the moment his usefulness had come to an end they turned on him._

 _Then... The flower was knocked away, a single sphere of flame sending it flying. And Toriel stepped from behind a pillar. For just an instant, he wanted nothing more than to call out to her, to sob and explain..._

 _Then his rage overcame it. She was here. She'd given up and walked away. How dare she live when he and Asriel had died for her? How dare any of these monsters live, without even acknowledging that he'd lived?_

 _He followed her to the mannequin, and he knocked it aside. Toriel told him to be kind, that 'we wouldn't want to hurt anyone, would we?'_

 _As if she had any right to talk._

 _As she led him forward, a froggit leaped from around a corner. He didn't hesitate; Toriel hadn't noticed yet. It took little more than a hard strike with the stick in his hand to reduce the being to dust. Toriel turned, but he was already with her, the dust invisible in the dim light. She noticed nothing._

 _Then, after holding his hand as though he were a child, she left him alone at the end of a long passageway. Stepping through, it took only a few steps before another Froggit showed itself. It attacked. He grinned, and dust filled the underground..._

 _Toriel had no idea, either; when he arrived, she had no idea he had taken so long in the ruins because he'd been ensuring that no Monster remained. It was so quiet, but he supposed it usually was when a human wasn't around. It wouldn't take long... he just had to figure out how to go after the rest._

 _After all... he was a monster, right? That's what he'd been called. A monster, a demon. His eyes, his smile, they'd always made enemies of others. Well, fine. Humans didn't deserve to live._

 _Neither did monsters._

 _He would put an end to them all, just like they wanted to do to him. 'Kill or be killed,' the flower had said._ Fine, _he thought._ Then I'll kill. I'll kill everyone, every monster in the underground. Then... Then only the dead will live down here.

 _After all, he was a monster, right?_

* * *

A week had passed since Asriel had disappeared, and so far, not a single night had passed without at least one horrible dream. Dreams of Toriel falling, beaten and bleeding. Dreams of Papyrus, offering her a hug even as she beat him with her gloved fists. Dreams and dreams and dreams of things that had never happened, but all seemed so real to her. Undyne, always powerful, had proven to be a true hero when everything was on the line... But it hadn't been enough. The Guards, Mettaton... They'd fallen so easily.

And then Sans.

Sans had never fallen; she knew that, having experienced that particular nightmare before. But those fights had been so brutal... By the end of the week, Frisk found herself jumping at the slightest provocation, and clinging to her friends even when, sometimes, her instincts screamed to run, run far away. But these were her friends, not the 'foes' that she'd fought in her dreams. They wouldn't harm her, they'd proven it.

Then, on the eighth night, she dreamed again. A new dream...

* * *

 _She- He awakened again, but something was different. As his vessel's eyes opened, he found himself back in the ruins._ No, no, no! I've already been here! D-did I reset on accident? No! _But he was back, and as his vessel stood, he discovered two things._

 _The first was that the monsters were back; Flowey tried to kill his vessel again, and Toriel had once again stopped him from the killing blow. And once again, she'd led his vessel through the ruins... But this time, the Dust of the monsters they encountered didn't fill the passageways, and this was due to the second thing he'd discovered._

 _He had no control._

 _He._

 _Had._

 _No._

 _Control._

 _He couldn't stop this child from doing whatever they wanted, and though he knew his desires affected them, they didn't do as he demanded. As they raised their stick against the mannequin, Toriel's words flashed through their mind as they never had in his. Their arm had lowered, and their mouth had opened to speak, though not a word was said._

 _And Toriel was so pleased. On and on they went, some of the distance with Toriel but most without, and where he had spread their dust across the stone floor, this vessel instead watched them, figuring them out and doing just what was needed to end the fight without anyone being hurt._

 _No matter how he pushed, their hand never wavered from Mercy. No matter how he urged, their mind never contemplated harming the Monsters they met. His fury mounted, higher and higher, as he realized something._

 _Their Determination was greater than his. So great, in fact, that it was as though he were no more than a distant murmur in their ear. One that was summarily ignored. And as they ventured through Snowdin and the caves, he felt weaker and weaker. By the time they met with Undyne, his world had gone dark. He slept..._

 _But everything that sleeps must awaken sometime._

" _ **And now it's your turn. Wake up, Frisk."**_

* * *

Frisk's eyes opened, exhaustion banished by a burst of adrenaline. She was in her room, in the dark. It was quiet; the distant rumble of Asgore's snores the only hint that someone else resided in the house. The night sky outside was clear and surprisingly bright, stars and a full moon shining down on the streets of the Monster Town.

At least, mostly. Save for the single place where a human form blocked the light coming in through the window. It shifted forward, and Frisk dove out of the bed. Light flashed, and something sliced through the air just an inch from the shirt she was wearing as pajamas.

" _ **What a shame,"**_ The figure said musingly, holding up a glittering dagger, worn with use at the hilt and grip but glittering and sharp along the edge. **_"I really wondered what a person looked like when I cut them open... But I guess that doesn't matter, does it, Frisk?"_**

She looked around, searching for something. Anything that might give her cover, or protect her from the person who'd somehow gotten into her room. But even as she worried, the familiarity of the voice nagged at her. Why was it so familiar? What was it about it that seemed so...

" _ **What's wrong? Don't remember me?"**_ The figure laughed, the sound sharp, scornful. They made their way to her lamp, reaching out. **_"Here, let's make things a bit easier, huh? After all, you'll be my first human victim. You deserve to know me, huh?"_** The figure laughed another scornful laugh, then the lamp clicked on.

Frisk's heart stuttered, threatened to halt altogether. It almost seemed to echo another, similar feeling of utter shock, somewhere in the far distance of her mind. But she didn't scream, even if so much of her wanted to. She wouldn't scream.

After all, he was right; it was easier to figure out who it was with the light on. A lime-green long-sleeve shirt, lemon-yellow stripes circling the chest and each arm. Black pants falling into leather boots. A glittering dagger, one Asgore had used often to clear away vines.

"Chara," she breathed, resisting the urge to turn that whisper into a shout.

"Me," he agreed, his lips spreading into a creepy grin, one that discomfitted her. He spread his arms, chuckling softly. "Is that how you greet me, Frisk? Come here... Give me a _**hug**_..."

Frisk took a staggering step forward, her feet bare and silent on the carpet. Then she took another, paused... "You want a hug," she murmured, staring into those cinnamon-colored hues. "Fine." She took a half step back, leaned slightly forward.

Chara barely had the time for his eyes to widen as realization took hold before Frisk hit him in a solid tackle, her shoulder sinking into his stomach, her body tucking in as they both soared backwards.

At least the sound of the window breaking would wake someone up.

A/N: Why, hello everyone. I see you've noticed a couple of things by this point. First, this chapter isn't ten pages! I'm so, so, so sorry, but... I write the chapters I feel fit. I could have carried on with Frisk's meeting with Chara, of course. There's plenty more of that coming in my next chapter. It's not a bad dream, dearies, this is the real world. That's right, our little story here now has TWO Charas. Let me tell you now, I didn't actually think this would happen the way it did when I started my last chapter. Whisper's Asriel chapter threw me for as much of a loop as it did you guys, and it gave me a dilemma; do I give up on the story I had intended to do so that Whisper's story made perfect sense, or do I change my story just a bit, so the two mesh?

Long story made extremely short, I made them mesh. I'm sure, given what hints Whisper has dropped regarding his half of the story, that it will all become clear in time, but in the mean time, I hope you continue to enjoy the stories we're writing for you guys.

The second thing I'm sure you'll notice is, I'm posting this _early!_ Not just early in the day for us North Americans, but a full 24 hours earlier than my plan! This is for two reasons. One, Insomnia smacked me upside the head, and I decided to write until I felt sleepy or finished the chapter. I finished the chapter... Or, the chapter finished letting me write it, deciding on a cliffhanger. Second, I want this to be as much a shock to Whisper when he wakes and reads it as his chapter was to me, when he sent it to me just ten minutes prior to my posting it last week.

As Whisper mentioned in his A/N, we have a twitter! We both have access to it, and we'll both be posting status updates if there's any interest in our keeping everyone up-to-date. If not, we'll let it fade away, but we saw it as a chance to let you guys know if there's going to be a delay in a chapter update, and basically just keep you guys in the loop. It's up to you, really. ^.^ I'll cut it off here, then. Take care everyone, and as always, Stay Determined!

~Cookie


	7. Chapter 6: Eternally Bound

What time was it? What _day_ was it? Those were both very good questions that any normal, sane, person would've been asking all along, or they simply would've known. Asriel, however, had no such luxuries as the answers to those questions; in fact, the young Prince could scarcely feel his feet or hear anything beyond each ragged breath and frantic heartbeat that escaped his chest. All he knew for certain was that the tunnels had dragged on and on as though they were, themselves, an eternity, and he also knew that he was very quickly running out of energy.

Finally, Asriel simply couldn't run any longer, his knees buckling with one last step that carried him around yet another bend in the caverns. The resounding crack of his head meeting stone left a ringing in his ears all the while he laid there, each breath shifting his body's tiny weight just enough to cause him pain. It'd been...hours? Days? Honestly, he could've believed it if someone had told him that he'd been running for weeks, and he could only last so long.

" _Asriel?"_ , a distant voice called, its rasping tone echoing through the tunnels, _"Make this easier, stop running."_ He...no, it was coming, Asriel's oldest friend and, now, savior. Or was he? Something told the Prince that he couldn't trust the hooded man, and he was done ignoring his instincts.

The sound of his pursuer's voice spurred the ailing Pwqa onwards, his body jolting away from the cold stone wall at his back on instinct. The thought that moving so quickly was a mistake barely had time to flash across his mind before his palms hit the rough ground and he had to stifle a whine, tears building in his eyes from how tightly he squeezed them shut. However long it'd been since he'd awoken in the cave, Asriel's wounds had actually begun to heal, whether by magic, alchemy, or time he did not know, but that did not mean they were gone.

The Prince forced his eyes open after a another moment, the sound of Chara's rasping voice carrying ever closer through the tunnels, and he was met by the sight of his hands as he tried to lift them from the stone floor. The pain didn't matter nearly as much when Asriel saw how his charred and bloodied skin peeled away, leaving burnt fur and trails of golden blood on the tunnel floor. It was like the perfect nightmare, and Asriel suddenly regretted ever even considering leaving his beloved family behind.

 _'T-This...can't be h-happening..'_ , he thought, the disbelief turning over and over in his mind as his oldest friend came ever nearer. _**'But it is, isn't it?'**_

That thought was not his own.

The shock of another presence invading his mind stunned Asriel for too long a moment, his eyes going wide as he bolted to his feet and stumbled further down the side passage. Every step was pained, every brush against the wall a raw, burning, agony, but nothing could quite overpower the intense cold that voice brought with it. It was like icy fingers trailing up and down his spine, their claws seeping ever deeper into his heart with each frantic, pounding, beat.

 _ **'Come, Asriel, just let me take you away from here.'**_ The voice continued on, its every word gnawing at the Prince's memories and soul alike as he tried his very hardest to forget the...thing hunting him. _'Y-you're...not...Chara..'_ , he hissed back, _'Chara's...dead..'_ It was as he processed his own thoughts that he felt a heavy hand light upon his shoulder, the cold touch almost sending an electric shock through his system that had his remaining fur standing, painfully, on end. _"That is just what you want to believe, Asriel."_

Without hesitation Asriel ducked into a run, just as Frisk had shown him, and bolted down the hallway, leaving another bloodied patch of sticky skin clinging to the black hooded...thing's hand. His actions were met with pain, pain that followed his every step, and his pain was met with an internal, silent, scream. His scream was as much of pain as it was of fear, anger, and hopeless frustration; all the young prince wanted was to go home, to be held by his mother again, to hug Frisk again and sit on Sans' lap again. That was all he wanted, and he was so, terribly, sorry that he had ever thought it wise to leave.

Asriel's screaming wants and desires, however, were met with only the cold voice calling after him, once more reaching his ears instead of invading his mind. _"You can't escape, Asriel!"_ , Chara called after him, _"You NEED me! There's only one way out of this place, and_ _ **I**_ _am in your way!"_ Asriel had no response, his mind wholly dedicated to containing the salty, stinging, tears that streamed out of his eyes and each labored breath that left and entered his lungs. Chara simply let him go; he knew his oldest friend, and he knew the boy would come around in time. Besides, there were far worse things in the mountains than he, wouldn't it be amusing if the stubborn, terrified, little princeling came whimpering back to his arms out of fear alone? It would be very amusing indeed.

Asriel's sticky feet pounded down the tunnel's seemingly endless passages, the panicked young Pwqa unaware that his pursuer had finally, almost mercifully, stopped following him through the caves. It was the fear of that hand, of that voice, that kept him going, his immature foot-claws cracking every time their charred surfaces scraped along the floor's solid stone. Bit by bit he was either dying, yet again, or he was getting better, he couldn't quite tell for the pounding of his heart, ringing in his ears, and the blur that had come over his eyes. He knew he had to stop soon or his body would stop itself, but all that drove him onward was the fear of being touched by that...thing again, or of hearing its almost too welcoming voice.

Two hours later, Asriel found out which was stronger, his body or his mind, the hard way.

Having found his way, by sheer luck more than anything, to a part of the cave system where the rock was no longer tan, its surface having turned as black as some of the charred burns on Asriel's body, the prince collapsed to his knees, and then quickly felt his jaw meet the stone floor. It would've been so easy for him to just let go and never wake up, for him to finally let the pain win out and his mind to fall mercifully silent as the darkness crept in. It was, however, as these shadows seemed to swirl around him, his vision going black from exhaustion, that Asriel felt incredibly at peace, almost unnaturally so.

 _'...am I...dying..?'_ , he asked the darkness of his thoughts.

The only answer to his question was silence, but the warmth that slowly permeated his bones, replacing the cold chill Chara had left him with, seemed answer enough. Only his family could make him feel so at home, right? Then that meant...

With a surge of energy the Prince's eyes snapped open, his charred hands lashing out to grab at the darkness as though it were a person, his tiny claws raking through the shadows of the tunnel just as his heart began to speed up its labored beating once more. He knew he had to get up, he knew he had to fight the urge to just lay down and die, and Asriel Dreemurr shoved himself to his feet with strength he didn't even know he had; it was strength that left him reeling, but, when his vision stabilized again, the Prince realized that the darkness around him was suddenly far less dark.

It was, instead, illuminated by a strikingly beautiful display; a display of deep crimson flames that had sprouted from his already charred limbs and coiled around them like so many flickering serpents, serpents that, suddenly, seemed all too real for Asriel's young mind to bear considering.

A renewed flood of panic racing through his mind at the sight of the crimson coils around his arms, Asriel, for once, managed to control his reaction. Somewhat. His gut instinct, as with most others, was to toss his arms about, pat the flames down, and even roll along the cold stone floor, anything to just make the fire go away. Perhaps, though, it was how the fire didn't seem to burn his wounded limbs any more than salt would have, or maybe it was simply a sign of his mind finally maturing, but the young Prince took in a long, deep, breath and silently closed his eyes.

It was less like a mental switch, as he had once heard Toriel describe the usage of magic to Frisk, and more like a vision, a vision of a field alight with red flames. It was a terrifying sight at first, though Asriel did not truly feel any fear, as his eyes scanned across the field, his mind slowly resolving what the vision was showing him. It wasn't just any simple field, it was one of the normally lush plains back...home.

His home was on fire, and he was the cause.

* * *

"I'm sorry for what happened, kiddo, I really am."

The droning old voice came suddenly enough to Asriel that it made the young prince start in his seat, his gleaming eyes flicking up to meet the face of an old friend, and a teacher. He'd been so lost in the mists of his mind, and the pain that flowed through his body, that he hadn't even noticed the skeleton talking to him for the past five minutes.

"S-Sans...why?", the prince whispered, it was all he could do to not just bawl his eyes out for about the eightieth time.

The stone faced skeleton sighed and shook his head, his emotions written on his sleeve no matter how hard he tried to keep them hidden. He was angry, confused, and shocked, but his tone was as flat as ever. "I've got nothin' for ya kid, if I did I'd say somethin'.", he admitted, "All I can say is sorry and that I'm lookin' everywhere. I still know a few folks from tha old days.

Asriel looked up to his mentor and friend, one of his many on both accounts, with eyes that almost begged for something, anything, to explain what had happened almost a week previous, but there was nothing. In fact, there was less than nothing. What caught Asriel's young eyes the most was not the absence of Sans' normally playful smile, nor the way in which he seemed tense and wound like a spring. No, what caught his attention the most was how Sans' balled right hand seemed to shake with every breath he took, despite having no lungs, and how the blue flame in his left eye flickered in and out... Was Sans angry or...scared?

Not knowing enough to understand his uncle's emotions, and not able to focus much past his own nose thanks to the pain, Asriel just leaned over against Sans' fluffy pot belly, his eyes closing the moment his head hit the hoodie. Sans, for his part, didn't even seem surprised, but the gesture did seem to touch a cord. His skeletal hand drifted to Asriel's head as his own eyes, both flickering sockets, cast out over the shivering boy's burned, bandaged, body. He was so small, so frail, and yet he'd displayed so much strength. Sans couldn't even imagine what he felt like with all of his injuries, and he didn't dare to try.

"I'll getcha answers kiddo.", he sighed as his fingers ran through Asriel's hair, "I promise ya that." There was no response, but Sans' glowing left eye finally cast a gorgeous shade of solid gold.

* * *

The scene that was laid out before Asriel was one of nightmare, a sight that his young mind could barely comprehend even as he told himself that it wasn't real, that it couldn't have possibly been real.

The village was still burning, but it wasn't Monster Town. The sky was black and red, but it wasn't a moonlit sky. The field around him was not his home, but it was a battlefield, a very old battlefield, and waves of nausea washed over the princeling as he looked out across what could have, long ago, been his home.

Humans, Monsters, even other creatures he couldn't begin to name or recognize all lay dead or dying around him. Bodies scorched by fire, others pierced by weapons of magic and steel, and yet others riddled with arrows or crushed by the strength of those far greater. He knew them all, he knew them as only a king could know them, and yet he knew that his brow did not wear a crown.

It was as his rattled mind tried to piece together the broken truth, as his body fought down waves of sickness from the stench of death and decay, that light caught his eye off to one side. It was distant, faint almost, but the distinct spark of steel was unmistakable even to his young eyes.

Asriel pushed himself up, his mind barely noticing that his body no longer pained him, and broke into a sprint, his clawed feet tearing across grass, sod, ash, and flesh alike. Something old twinged within him as he ran, something that told him he wasn't going to like what he found.

That pain in his gut spoke the truth.

It was a battle, a fight unlike any he'd ever seen before, a battle that neither of the combatants could win. Both the Human, adorned in royally made black armor that contrasted his pale skin, and Toriel, the Queen of Monsters dripping as much ichor as she was drenched in crimson blood, knew that they were evenly matched, and so both screamed as soon as Asriel's pounding steps echoed through the darkness.

The man, his sword, shield, and armor drenched in both Human and Monster blood, met Toriel in one last clash, his blade sparking as it smashed against the crackling hooks of a massive crimson trident. Toriel looked to one side, the man's eyes following hers, as their bodies struggled against one another's strength, and her fire wreathed him. The red runes along his armor defied even her, protecting him from the enraged flames.

"ASRIEL!", Toriel's despair filled tone carried as he neared them, his young legs carrying him along at all too slow a pace, "YOU HAVE TO FIGHT HIM! PLEASE!" It wasn't the first time, but, as Asriel sprinted closer with each panting breath, it was one of the few times in his memory that he'd ever seen tears streaming down his mother's face.

The Human, another king perhaps, simply stared through the golden flames at Asriel, so much of his focus taken up by the now stalled fight that he had forgotten how to speak. Despite his silence, the man still spoke volumes simply by how he stood, by how defiant he seemed to push against Toriel even when all their eyes were locked on Asriel, by how even the wounds on his body Asriel could just see through the flames didn't seem to slow him down.

All Asriel knew was terror, all he could think of was the singular pain in his stomach and the burning fear that had spread throughout his heart and lungs. He didn't want his mother to fight, much less to die, but he knew that he was too young to do anything. He was a prince, a child, how could he possibly help? For all that he'd been through, Asriel firmly believed that he was doomed to failure.

Thankfully, this one time, his beliefs did not matter.

Asriel pushed past the burning in his legs, blinking away the tears of fear and pain in his own eyes, and nearly felt himself tumble as his claws caught in the armor of a long dead knight. It wasn't the decay that stunned him as his eyes cast their gaze back for the briefest second, it was the cold hand that seemed that reach out and grasp at his young, frantically pounding, heart. It was as though he hadn't just avoided falling, but falling into the abyss itself.

" **ASRIEL!** "

The sound of his mother's panicked voice brought the princeling back to focus, his eyes swiveling back to the two titans locked in their struggle even as his feet carried him onward. He could feel the crimson fire that had followed him licking at his own spine, and suddenly he saw a flash of crimson sparking against steel. Then the world ahead exploded in flame.

The gout of fire that poured forth from Toriel's hands, from her entire body, as she pushed herself to the limit, was like nothing Asriel had ever beheld before. The flames themselves seemed to have a vicious mind of their own, the occasional snapping head or tooth of white flame rearing up and snapping back _inside_ the stunning display of power and skill.

 _'He...couldn't have survived..'_ Yet, as logical and cold as they were, Asriel's thoughts, his hopes, were dashed across the rocks seconds later. Just before his eyes turned to the sky, his feet scraping and kicking against the cluttered ground under foot, the prince could almost see the Human's form within the flames. It was shielded by both his shield...and a red glow, his teeth grit and eyes squeezed shut against the struggle of sheer willpower and primal might.

It was then that Asriel's feet left the ground, his comparatively tiny weight carried aloft by strength he did not know he had and something that, seconds later, felt like wings. The leap, as high as it was, just barely brought him over the unceasing torrent of fire, the flames at his back mixing, if only momentarily, with his mother's, but Asriel could not have noticed the searing pain in his feet if he'd tried. He was falling, fast, toward the corpse ridden ground, and he could not sto-

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Asriel opened his eyes. The flames at his back no longer seemed of consequence compared to the heat of Toriel's rage. The ground underneath his feet, however, had sunk far more than his weight should have caused. It was thinking this that made the Prince look to his feet, feet larger than his father's with claws far more wickedly sharp. Then his gaze swept over his hands, chest, legs, and arms as he rose from a kneel. His body was that of a warrior's, his arms and legs defined with lithe muscle and countless scars. His chest and stomach were different too, scarred, refined, and dripping ichor from blade wounds that seemed to heal even as he watched them. His hands, though...they possessed of claws as long as his father's, the hands of a true warrior, and in his right hand he held the thing he'd caught with his mighty leap.

A six and a half foot long crimson trident, sparking and glowing with an inner red light as bright as the sun and as deep as the bloody moon that had come to hang in the night sky.

The shock wore off almost as quickly as it had come over Asriel, his pupils narrowing down to slits instead of their normal circular shapes, and he straightened up, but the prince was no longer a prince- _ling_. He stood up and turned, his bare feet scraping across the ashen ground as his gaze swept over the scene before him.

The gout of flame had ended, its heat still charging the air around the two titans with sparks and embers, and Toriel was spent. The queen knelt before her enemy, his shield white hot and face as pale as Asriel's once again snow white fur. He was not weak, though, far from it, and nor was he afraid of the ancient monarch he'd just cowed and brought low. No, he was not afraid of Toriel anymore.

" **You are a cancer upon this world. You, and all your ilk."** Asriel's voice thundered out across the plains, no longer the higher pitched tone of a wounded child. Now? He felt powerful, he felt old yet new, and he felt _good_.

The prince, now remade, stepped towards the Human lord he now towered over. He was taller than his gargantuan father, stronger than his fierce mother, and infinitely more terrifying than both. Asriel Dreemurr was not just a prince as he righted the trident in his hands and prepared to do battle with his family's old foe, he was the one thing even people like Chara or this pitiful tyrant before him feared.

Lord Alric DeMontaigne was no longer afraid of the Queen of Monsters, he was afraid of the Monster he'd just created, and every ounce of hatred and fear was reflected in his butterscotch eyes.

"No, Dreemurr.. It is YOU that are a cancer, you and.. all of your kind, all of you that...skulk across this world.", the Human spat, a bloody cough following quick in the wake of his words, "Gah...you will destroy us ALL before you're...done, you will poison this world! That...that is why I must kill..you."

Asriel did not grimace, he actually smiled, a black rimmed crimson flame sparking in his violet eyes. **"You're right about one thing, Alric."** , he grinned, and with a sudden snarl of rage, his mother watching on through tear blurred vision, Asriel raised his father's trident and drove it downwards, pinning the Human lord to the blood and ichor soaked ground.

* * *

Despite what he remembered when his eyes snapped open, Asriel's trident never quite hit its deadly mark. All the young prince knew as his pupils contracted and he took in the dim, dusty, light of the cave's tunnels was the trident's prongs smashing into DeMontaigne and a bright flash of light, as bright as the sun, as they were met by a crimson shield. His armor had flared, Asriel's trident had stalled, and the flaming creatures that had chased him had coiled out from his back, shoulders, and arms to snap and slash at the Human lord. Eventually DeMontaigne's shield had cracked, white cracks appearing in his red aura, and Asriel had been just about to claim his final victory when something...happened.

It was as his mind ran through that last, broken, memory of the vision that a horrible, stinging, pain shot through his heart. The princeling, once again a frail child covered in the burns he'd lived with for what felt like an eternity, curled up on the ground, crying out as his mind flashed between begging a nameless darkness for mercy and absolute blankness as the world seemed to spin and shift. It was nearly a minute later, even as the pain was still fading from his chest, that short lines of cutting pain tore their way along his burnt arms, legs, chest, and abdomen. Every part of his body was already on fire, metaphorically, and now it felt like he really was going to just up and die in the darkness of the caves. It was in that haze of weeping agony that Asriel's mind simply let go, his consciousness once again drifting to the aether for just long enough for someone to find him.

Someone, or something, that he hadn't a name for or memory of, not any longer.

The cold was what awoke Asriel from his dreamless sleep, his finally peaceful breathing beginning to quicken once more as he anticipated the agony he'd drifted off to. Yet this time there was no pain whatsoever. No pain, just a cold that seemed to permeate every inch of his body like an inescapable shadow that had covered his entire body.

Eyes snapping open at the realization of the feeling, and fully expecting Chara to be standing over him once more, Asriel sat bolt upright, his eyes wide and pupils mere dots in the creeping darkness. The tunnels, already dark given their location so far into the mountain, had lost their seemingly natural luster, a cold, gray-blue, mist having settled over the interior as though to block out the sandstone's bright coloration.

"H-hello...?", he called, his voice echoing through the tunnels without response. The echo traveled for seconds, long seconds, and Asriel's heart slowly began to beat harder in his chest as what little fur was left on his body stood on end. He felt no pain, no real fear, but the strange comfort he did feel was so alien...it seemed wrong somehow, but not like that...thing that called itself Chara. This was wrong, off, in a different way.

Slowly, careful of the injuries he knew he still had despite the strange absence of pain, Asriel forced himself up off the cold ground, his arms wrapping tightly around his chest. "H-hah...it's c-cold without f-fur...", he mumbled to the darkness, a warm spike of sorrow driving itself through his chest as he remembered all the times he'd fallen asleep and woken up with...her... Frisk had always been one to just appear before morning, snuggled up to his side in the comfort of his fur. Suddenly, Asriel felt very alone, and the drowning sadness over his decision to leave only compounded that.

The Prince of Monsters, however, was not alone.

It was in his moment of sadness, when his spirits had fallen just as the tears that rolled out of his eyes continued to, that he felt a cold wind at his back. It was a gentle breeze, as though someone was standing there, and he turned quickly, ready to protect his injured body and now pounding heart from Chara's menacing form.

It was not, however, Chara that was stood there. In fact, there was nothing, nothing but a shadowed black hand stretching out from a darkness that seemed far too thick to be normal. Asriel stared for a moment, uncomprehending, until a glint in the dim blue light caught his eye. It was the glint of something gold hanging from the shadow's hand, and Asriel's eyes went wide as he tentatively stepped closer.

"M-my...l-locket...", he stammered, unbelieving. It was the same golden locket that Frisk had given him mere days before he'd left Monster Town, the same one he'd lost when he had to run from the wild creatures of the forests, and now he was staring at it again. "H-how..?" Asriel's voice barely carried, but the darkness seemed to hear him all the same, its black hands stretching out to clasp the locket's chain around his scarred neck. It felt heavy, but it also felt very right.

Asriel looked up at the darkness, looking all around for any sign of a familiar face, of anything or anyone he knew, but all he saw was the many misty, black, hands floating in the swirling shadows around him. He knew he had to say something...and after a moment's thought, he knew exactly what.

"H-help me...please?", he asked, "I-I'll do...anything.. Just...help me...go back..."

The darkness had no face to smile or speak with, but, as it swirled and quickly dove to envelop the princeling, Asriel got the feeling that he had just made someone very, very, happy indeed.

 _ **A/N: So, this is bloody late. I'm sorry! Really, I never intended for it to be so late, but work got in the way of me having time to write. Thankfully I believe Cookie's chapter will be going up just shortly after mine, so it shouldn't be anything less than a deluge of Undertale. Enjoy everyone! Oh, and feel free to PM me or Cookie questions about our respective chapters, fans are awesome.**_

 _\- Whisper_


	8. Chapter 7: Chara's Demons

Falling had never been one of Frisk's favorite things to do.

When she'd fallen into the Underground, it had been a distinctly unpleasant sensation for her, both because of its novelty at the time and because of the lack of assurance that she'd survive. The same could be said of the first time Undyne had dropped the bridge out from under her. Once survival was... Almost guaranteed, of course, her dislike of the sensation became as simple as 'I don't like the feeling in my belly when I'm falling.'

She'd still fallen, of course; every time she went through a run, she fell at least once. Though she'd never come to like it, she'd eventually come to accept the sensation, viewing it as just one of the things she needed to deal with while she tried to free Asriel, the last of the Monsters. The only one who wouldn't leave the underground.

But he had, finally, after so many tries. So many struggles later, he'd finally stepped foot out of the Underground as himself. And yet, now she found herself falling again, despite his freedom. Her ears hardly registered the crash of shattering glass, and the thud she felt against her back hurt, but in the same way that being hit by one of Flowey's seeds hurt; blunt, not sharp. It would bruise, she knew, but her skin hadn't been pierced. Then came Frisk's least favorite part of falling.

The abrupt stop at the bottom.

She landed with her shoulder still pressed to Chara's midsection, and she felt him react as all her weight crashed into her stomach. But she was practiced at falling by now; She rolled almost the instant they landed, throwing herself away from Chara with something like a cry, tucking and rolling several feet away. She shivered, hard, for just one instant; she was dressed in little more than an extra-large shirt and her underwear, hardly clothing to be outside in this cold.

Chara lay on his back for several moments, struggling to draw in a breath. Lights came on in the house above them, Toriel and Asgore's voices calling out in sleepy confusion. Frisk saw Chara's cinnamon-hued eyes turn towards the house, saw his grip tighten on the knife. Crap.

But then his eyes turned to her, and her stomach actually dropped. Double crap, she thought, taking first one step back, then a second. He rolled to his feet with a groan, rising to his feet without the natural fluidity of movement that Frisk had acquired during her years underground. "You got me," he said with a soft laugh, his voice chilling. It was like that calm tone had years, centuries of bubbling anger right under the surface. "But you know... It wasn't very nice to spring that 'hug' on me... Maybe we should have a proper hug, huh?"

Frisk took another step back, swallowing thickly. "O-only if you can keep up," she managed, her Determination solidifying her thoughts; she wouldn't let this happen where Asgore and Toriel could get drawn in. Turning, Frisk took off; The window they'd gone through faced the side of the house, neither towards nor away from the center of town. Turning to her left, towards the front of her house, Frisk set off at a sprint, away from town and from all the innocents there. There was a brief pause, then a sharp, cold laugh before he joined her in headlong sprint... And he was fast.

Not as fast as she was, of course; even if she'd only been training for a short time, speed had always been her second best tool in the Underground, right after her mind's ability to pick out patterns quickly. But he was fast, fast enough that even if she could leave him behind in a sprint, he caught up rather quickly once they left trimmed yard and concrete and stepped into the rough, stick-laden grass of the forest. She didn't have shoes; hell, she didn't even have pants. Though she pushed herself, she knew it was impossible to lose him in this condition. And had she saved lately?

It happened sooner than she'd expected; as she burst out of the foliage into a tiny little clearing, perhaps eight foot in diameter, red-hot agony erupted in a line along her back. She let out a startled cry, her next step too faltering, too slow. She fell forward, tucking into a roll as she did but letting out a shriek of agony as that roll carried her body's weight across that line of pain. She came up in a crouch, turned back in the direction she'd come from, one hand stretched out to the side.

Chara stood behind her, a grin on his face that sent a shiver down her spine and made her heart twinge with sadness. In his hand, the dagger glittered in the light, silver meeting scarlet along one edge. "Looks like I caught you, Frisk," he said, his voice surprisingly soft. "It's your fault, you know... If it weren't for you, if it weren't for your Determination, I would have stayed in control. We would have finally killed Sans... But you took advantage of me! You kept begging and begging, and... And you distracted me! That's why I hit Reset!"

Frisk stared at him in confusion, scrambling onto her feet as he took a step forward. What was he talking about? He... He was able to reset? No, he couldn't be able to, not now. If he could, he'd have done something else, not... Whatever he'd done. He lunged, and she ducked to the side, the dagger in his hand describing a glittering, scarlet-hued arc through the air bare inches from her flesh.

He didn't let up. He didn't give her time to plan her next move, the way all the monsters did. Instead, he spun, slashing at her eyes. She leaped back, the bridge of her nose coming alight with pain as the very point of the dagger traced across the tender flesh. She gasped, feeling hot blood running in rivulets down either side of her nose, running like a sheet down her back. Drawing back, Chara pivoted so he stood in profile, his right side towards her, his right leg drawing up off the ground.

She recognized this; she'd seen Undyne take up this posture, right before- Shit. She dove to one side, his leg streaking out straight at where her stomach had been a moment ago. But she wasn't there; she'd staggered to the side, barely avoiding his kick. Her breathing was ragged, and her back was on fire with pain, but she couldn't stop moving. Chara recovered from his kick so quickly, pivoting at the hip and slashing from side to side.

Frisk leaped back, but a line of red-hot pain stitched itself across her stomach, just underneath her ribs. She didn't scream this time; her mind was back up to speed, running where it had been when she'd been underground. Pain had been a fact there for so long; she hadn't always blocked Undyne's spears, hadn't always avoided the Dog Couple's axes. "Why?" She demanded, catching herself just before she'd have overbalanced herself and fallen on her back, dropping low beneath his second swing. He growled, lunging forward in a stab that she pivoted around, one of her hands pushing his wrist away from her body.

She skipped back a step, avoiding Chara's foot by inches as he tried to snap a kick into her ribs. Then he planted his foot, lunging towards her and slashing low, then high. Frisk's body bowed to avoid the first, and she barely pulled back in time to keep both her eyes as the second slash flashed bare millimeters from her right eye. But she was out of position to avoid the knee he brought up; she barely had time to suck in a breath before the hard angle of bone and tendon sank into the soft flesh of her stomach, the air leaving her lungs in a coughing burst.

She staggered backwards, arms going around her abdomen. She kept her eyes open, though, saw Chara lunging in, and she waited until the last second to drop to her knees, a few locks of her hair all that caught by the sharp edge of his blade. He was purposefully aiming for her eyes! Grunting, she leaped and rolled, barely able to get enough energy for the move from the awkward starting position. Pain erupted from her back, but she pushed it aside with a grit of her teeth.

"Because you're happy!" Chara screamed, abrupt and stunning. Frisk froze, blinking, her eyes flicking from his knife shoulder to his face. Tears were beginning to gather in his scarlet gaze, but he seemed not to have noticed them yet. "Because I gave up everything for the monsters, and all I got in return was their attempts to kill me again! But you! You never gave up your life for them, you didn't kill yourself for them, but you're their hero! Why?! Why are you a hero just for not killing, but I'm just Chara when I gave up everything?!"

Frisk stared at him, uncomprehending, as he slashed his knife through the air. It had lost its dangerous air, and Chara had lost the odd otherness that had made him so... Strange. "Even Asriel was seen as some kind of hero! All that crybaby ever did was take my soul and get himself killed, but he's the one everyone focuses on! And me? I'm the bad guy! He was the one who didn't kill a few of those animals that call themselves humans, but somehow, I'm the bad guy! It would have worked! It would have worked! If Asriel had just done his part, we never would have needed you! We would have saved ourselves!"

Frisk shook her head slowly, thrown completely out of the fighting headspace. He... He was actually crying now, tears running down his cheeks though he still didn't seem to have noticed. "I should have known," he said, his tone caustic... but not, apparently, at Asriel. "He was too gentle... He couldn't have done what he needed to do... but the others, they were so useless! He came back so hurt, and they couldn't even help him! They let him die, let him dissolve into Dust right there in front of them! They deserved what they got! They- They deserved to die!"

"Nobody deserves to die," Frisk murmured, and as though her words were a physical blow, Chara recoiled, his eyes flicking up at her. From somewhere inside, she dredged up a smile, an honest little smile. "Nobody really deserves to die... Not them, not me... And not you, either."

Chara stared at her, the dagger trembling in his hands. She saw the choices before her; Fight, Act, Mercy... She had nothing she could use, no items of any kind. So she chose mercy, her arms spreading slightly despite the pain in her back that it caused. "Let's not fight, okay?" She asked, feeling a burning prickle in the corners of her eyes. _This poor boy,_ she thought sadly. _He only wanted to help free the monsters, and yet..._

Chara stared at her, his cinnamon-hued gaze widening at her words. He raised his knife, then his arm dropped to his side, tears gathering in his eyes. "Why," he murmured, shaking his head slowly. "Why are you so damned nice?!" His arm flashed up, and pain flashed through the left side of her chest. She glanced down, frowning in confusion at the hilt of the dagger protruding from her chest. The world darkened, turning black. She could feel her heart, her soul shattering apart...

* * *

She sat in the reset screen, her hand clutching at her left breast, where not a moment earlier a blade of metal had impaled her, and she screamed. She didn't reset immediately, instantly, the way she had so many times before. No, now it was as it had been when she'd first Fallen, sitting in a screen and panicking for several minutes before pulling herself together. And it was good that she was here; as she had often in those early days, she needed some time to think.

Chara was here now. Reborn, however that worked. He was here, and he was angry. Angry at her, angry at the adults that had failed to help the brother he cared for, angry at the humans that he saw as the cause of all the problems the Monsters, and he personally, had experienced. And he had power.

She didn't know, exactly, how she knew it, but she knew it with the same kind of surety she'd known that Sans had power; he wasn't just good with that knife of his. He had something magical about him, something that put her, admittedly limited, magical senses on edge. It was a feeling she'd grown used to with Monsters; they were universally magical, and-

Universally magical.

"Triple crap."

* * *

The world tore itself apart, reversing to her last save point, immediately after her frenzied run from Chara, back in that clearing. Chara stood there, his grin quickly fading. His cinnamon eyes flicking around, before settling on the hand she held outstretched, the little 'Save' option pulsing underneath. He snorted, but he didn't look amused. If anything, he almost looked broken. "Of course. You saved here, so that I'd still be too far away to give the others what they deserve." He closed his eyes, his grip tightening on the hilt of the dagger. "Dammit. Why are you like this? You couldn't have expected this to happen... _I_ didn't think any of this would happen. You were panicking when you ran. So why is it that even with all my advantages, even after being inside you for _eight years_ , I don't have the Determination to overpower yours?!"

"Because," Frisk said slowly, holding her hand out to one side and frowning intently, "Monsters have to focus too much of their magic and determination to simply maintaining themselves."

"M-monsters?" Chara barked a laugh, then held up his arm, the dagger's edge dragging along the forearm. Crimson welled in the seam he'd drawn, running down to his wrist before dripping from his fingers. "I'm human, Frisk. Flowey was right, you really _are_ -"

"Then how are you here?" She asked, cutting him off. "Because I still have my body. You're not in control of me, and you haven't stolen anyone else's body, either. You just appeared, didn't you?" He stared at her, his earlier emotions set aside. Oh, how nice to be young and flighty, she thought. Then she paused; how old WAS she, anyway? "That means you had to have formed a body out of magic, just like Monsters do."

"And if I did?" He demanded, taking a threatening step forward. She didn't step back, and that fact more than anything pulled him up short.

Frisk smiled sadly, gazing at him. "I've yet to meet a monster I couldn't beat, Chara."

* * *

He awoke with a jolt, the sheer _wrongness_ of the instant pressing against him like some oily, noxious creature. It passed so quickly that if he hadn't been hyperaware of it, hadn't been through so many of them, he might have missed it completely. But he didn't, and for a few moments he scrambled around his room, cursing the laziness that had led him to make his room on the surface the next best thing to a clone of the one underground. Only when he tore the window open and saw the stars sparkling overhead, the moon floating amongst them, did the relax and stagger back to sit heavily on his bed, staring at the twister of dirty laundry in one corner of his room.

"She didn't take us back," he gasped, relief flooding through him and replacing the panic he'd felt. They weren't back underground, they weren't about to be forced to go through it all again. For just a moment, the relief at that realization was so intense that he almost fell over. Then something else clicked into place, something he should have realized immediately, and he jumped back to his feet.

Someone had made Frisk reset.

He was back up again almost at once, scrambling around his room for clothes; his usual shirt underneath his jacket, black shorts, socks and his pink slippers. Then he reached out and grabbed at the door, wrenching it open and stepping through...

Into Frisk's bedroom, the door swinging shut behind him. It took him a few seconds to process what he was seeing; it looked like the kid had had some kind of nightmare, tossing and turning and really mussing up their bed... Then took a leap out the window? That wasn't like Frisk at all, and something about it stank to high heaven. He heard shouting from outside and ran over to the broken window, leaning as far out as he could without stabbing himself with a shard of glass. With so little HP, that'd be a seriously bad thing.

Outside, Toriel and Asgore were searching in separate directions, spreading out from the field of shattered glass that was all that was left of Frisk's bedroom window. Sans took a step back, and for a brief second, the world swirled, colors blurring messily around him. When they cleared, he was outside, on the ground, and running towards Toriel. "Tori! What's goin' on?"

Toriel turned, her eyes widening. "Sans! What are you doing here? No, nevermind that for now; Frisk is missing." She strode forward to meet him, her eyes worried. He heard Asgore behind them; both were dressed in bedclothes, a long gown and pajama bottoms for Toriel and a full set of pajamas for Asgore, though his girth stretched this top around his shoulders. That was one goat who hadn't gone soft with age. "We were both fast asleep when it happened; we heard a crash, some talking, and by the time we got to her room, there was nobody to be seen..."

"You have goat to be kidding me," Sans groaned, before turning an apologetic smile towards Asgore as he groaned at the puns from behind. "Sorry, I'm like a nun. I've got a habit. Call Undyne; she's a good person to have on hand when things get fishy. And call Mettaton and Alphys, too; they might be able to help. I'm gonna keep looking for her, alright? Shout if you find her." Then he turned, sprinting around the corner of the house before either of them could say a word.

The world smeared and shifted again, and when it resolved, Sans stood near the entrance to the school; it was a fair distance from Frisk's house, sure, but there weren't a lot of places she could go. After all, there was only the school, one of her friends' places, or the-

The forest.

"Duh, Sans," he growled, rapping himself on the head. "What a bonehead. Of course she'd head that way! Where'd she go when she found out Asriel was gone?" Almost the moment the world had steadied, it blurred around him again, and when it had once again steadied, he stood in the midst of the thick wood that still covered much of Mt Ebott. He closed his eyes, listening hard but hearing nothing.

He must have jumped a dozen times, starting with the hole in the ground that was the entrance to the Underground and then spreading out to land amongst many of the ruins in the forest. No matter how he searched, however, he couldn't find the young girl; it was almost as if she'd disappeared into the aether.

"Dammit, kid, where did you go?" He murmured, standing atop the ruins of a very, very old Monster building. Judging by all the old pipes, it could've been Woshua's ancestors. They'd be horrified by the state of it if they were around. "Just give me some kind of a sign, yeah?"

The world tore around him, coming apart at the seams, then gluing themselves together as he jolted upright in his bed.

"Shit."

* * *

As they reset for the second time, Frisk winced, still feeling how the knife had found its way across her stomach. It was already fading, however, a mere memory. "You can't win this," Chara said, pointing his knife towards her. He no longer wore the smile of victory he'd worn the first time, nor the look of defeat after their first reset. Instead, he had only a look of grim Determination. "We can keep resetting like this until your Determination falters and I gain control of the timeline. I'm more than willing, girly. Your best bet would be simply to give up and let me take control; you'll die a lot less that way."

"I'm not going to die again," she said slowly, letting her arm drop to her side. "See, if I gave up, everyone I loved and cared for, everyone I worked so hard to make happy, would be hurt. You would hurt them, wouldn't you?" She didn't wait for an answer, even though his mouth dropped open to reply. "So I can't give up. I have to keep going, and I have to win, whatever the cost to me."

She held her hand out, the fingers outstretched as if to pick something up, but those butterscotch hues never left his cinnamon ones. And as she reached out physically, she reached out mentally as well, pushing her will through her fingers, out into the world. Color bled out of her sight, and she could see as her heart, her Soul, manifested within her palm. "Once, Undyne told me that she felt every monster's hopes and dreams resting on her shoulders, and felt all their hearts beating as one. I thought she was very dramatic the first time, but the second, I realized she had a very real belief that if she failed, there wouldn't be a happy ending."

As she spoke, a reddish mist rolled off of her soul, swirling between her fingers and around her hand. "Now I know how she felt. It must have felt something like this; if she failed, then horrible things would happen to those she loved. The happy ending they were working towards would never be. Here, if I fail, then the happy ending I worked for would be undone. I can't let you ruin so many happy lives, I can't let you bring a shadow into all the light they've made for themselves."

The mist continued to grow, forming a nebulous, oblong mass in front of her. Chara took a step back, watching her nervously, his grip shifting on his knife. "And you know, I remember a few of the times you fought Undyne. The first time, in particular; you stabbed her, cut away all her HP, and pure, Monster-level Determination kept her alive. She... Changed. And do you remember what she said, right after you failed to kill her?"

Chara went pale, staring at her as the mist condensed, compressing all at once into a cylinder about as long as she was tall, topped with an elegant triangular head, longer and thinner than Undyne's spearhead. Her soul slipped back into her body, but her hand wrapped around the haft of her spear as though she'd done it a thousand times. Whipping the spear to the side, she raised the weapon and pointed it towards him. In her head, she heard Undyne's words, defiant despite her brush with a very permanent death. Determined, like the hero she was, to stop the madness. And as the mermaid spoke in her mind, Frisk echoed her aloud.

"You're going to have to try a little harder than _that_!"

"Y-you can't be serious," he sputtered, taking a step back at last. "You're... You're _Frisk_. You don't fight! You don't kill!"

"You're right, I don't kill," she said, shifting her grip on the spear. She could feel the drain of maintaining it, the draw on her energy to maintain the weapon. But she also felt something else, a welling of Determination that burned in her chest and lent heat to her limbs. "But just dodging you won't work, will it? I can't just avoid you forever; you'll keep attacking until I can't dodge, then you'll kill me and do it all again. So... I have to defeat you, without killing you." She settled back, widening her stance, bending one knee slightly. She had no skill with the spear, no training whatsoever; Undyne's training had consisted entirely of fitness to raise her strength and durability. Neither of them had expected her to manifest a spear yet, so their training had never used it.

Undyne had never told her how light the weapon would feel, how it would seem a natural extension of her body... Which, in a way, she supposed it was. It wasn't like Undyne's weapon; this was as red as her soul, and it pulsed slightly as if in time to her heartbeat. She wouldn't kill him; she would reset before she willingly let him die. But there was more to a spear than its sharp point, she understood that much.

She moved all at once, sprinting forward with that near-inhuman speed that was her signature trait, and as she did she struck with the spear, a blur of scarlet. Chara yelped, moving quickly himself as he stepped to the side, his knife jumping up and skittering across the edge of the spear's head with a cry of metal-on-metal. He shoved as best he could at the awkward angle, but found little resistance as the head of the spear whisked away from him. It took him just a second too long to realize that Frisk was pivoting, the haft of the spear meeting his stomach with a solid _whump_.

Staggering back, Chara struggled to draw in a breath, cinnamon hues narrowing as he looked up at her, even as she gained a few feet of distance between them. She wondered what she looked like to him, right then? The pacifist that had gone through the underground, throwing only one very weak punch at Undyne, seeming to abruptly become... Violent. She doubted he could see the sick feeling she felt in her stomach from just doing what she'd done thus far.

 _Don't make me hurt you_ , she silently begged him. _Give up, please give up._ She knew he wouldn't, though. She knew it with a certainty she might have found shocking two years ago. He wouldn't stop until he was either unable to go on, or he got what he wanted. Because he was the same as her. So bloody Determined... But that cut both ways. She was determined, too. So determined that she had control of the timeline. So determined that she wouldn't let him get what he wanted, no matter how many times it killed her.

Chara pushed himself to his feet, finally managing to suck in a breath. He raised the knife, angling the edge slightly and smiling a slow, creepy smile. _Show me your creepy face!_ She settled back, taking a deep breath.

They started moving at the same time, the distance closed in a heartbeat. She thrust with her spear once again, but he'd read the motion already; a single sidestep was all it took to take him out of the way of the glancing blow, then his knife flicked up. Digging her bare feet into the ground, Frisk shifted to the left and away, pivoting so she could face him. A line of fire traced itself along her right cheek, but she pushed the pain away, pivoting the haft of the spear around her body.

But he was ready for the move, and even as she committed to it he jumped, curving his body so that the scarlet staff passed underneath him. One hand reached out, planting on the ground and shoving him up, back to his feet. _Great, he's as agile as me._ He eyes flicked to his feet, the boots he wore. _More, without the caution being barefoot brings._ Her eyes flicked back up, and with a grunt of surprise she brought her spear up, the clash of metal on metal loud once again as she deflected his blade away from her.

What came next was a blur to her memory; a series of slashes from Chara and blocks or deflections on her part that was so rapid, she didn't recognize its occurring consciously. Instinct was all that saved her, and it did not protect her completely. Lines of pain traced themselves along her bare arms, across both cheeks, lacing her body with burning pain. But she didn't die, whatever he tried. A strike to Chara's knee that was more luck than anything intentional finally gained her a reprieve... A brief one. He staggered back, and she jumped back herself, trying to interpose the spear between herself and his knife. But she was too slow; she was slowing down, unwilling to harm him and losing blood from a very small body. He was almost unharmed, save a number of bruises, and still as quick as ever.

As he closed in, she realized that if she didn't do something, she wouldn't survive this clash; she could feel her motions dragging, and against someone that was already just as fast as her, she couldn't hope to keep up.

Determination hardened in her chest, and she imagined a barrier between herself and Chara; a wall that he couldn't hope to penetrate. Then the world went white...

* * *

Sans hadn't wasted any time following continuity with Toriel and Asgore; he'd jumped straight to the forest and began searching once again, scrambling from place to place as he desperately sought out the girl that had helped save the monsters. He had looked everywhere; every ruin he knew of, every place that Frisk had run to in the past, though those places were few enough. He'd sought out every location he could, and each and every time had come up blank. He was failing her, he knew, but he just couldn't find her.

"Dammit, where are ya, kid?" he muttered between gasping breaths, leaning heavily against the stonework of the ruin he'd just jumped to, weariness pulling at his limbs. Damn, but taking so many shortcuts was exhausting. His eyes scanned the horizon, searching in vain for something, anything that might give away the kid's whereabouts. He knew it was hopeless; the kid wasn't trying to be found. She was hiding, one way or another; he couldn't figure out why, but he'd be damned if he let her suffer through another reset. "Come on, kid... Just give me a-"

He was interrupted by just the thing he was searching for... In a way. He got a sign, a marker to show where Frisk was. But it was more than he'd bargained for when he'd begged for a sign; he'd hoped for a flare, or maybe some big, cosmic arrow pointing down, with Frisk Is Here written on it in big, golden letters.

What he got was a pillar of fire that lit the night, the hot air created in the abrupt firestorm creating a basso boom that rattled his bones in a very literal fashion.

"That works," he said, before the world blurred around him. When it resolved again, he stood in the middle of what was originally a small clearing, before the firestorm that had just encompassed it. Now, the ground was left charred, the trees roasted on one side, hot sap popping from the bark. Very little stood in the clearing, and none of it was the kid. One of them was _a_ kid, but it was a male, his skin very pale and cinnamon-hued eyes very wide and very scared. The other was a curved barrier of scarlet energy that stood between him and the center of the clearing, a long cone of unscorched grass stretching out behind him.

Memories flashed, memories of other timelines, bad dreams that plagued the skeleton to this day. He knew those eyes. The expression was wrong, but those eyes... He couldn't forget those eyes. His own left eye ignited with cerulean flames, and his hand reached out, wrapping the kid in a field of blue energy. Then he lifted him, holding him aloft and only just resisting the desire to slam him into the ground until he stopped screaming.

Who said Frisk hadn't changed him?

He opened his mouth to ask where she was when his eye caught something else; an oblong dome of scarlet energy stretching across the ground on the opposite side of the clearing. Holding the boy aloft with one hand, Sans made his way over to the dome, nudging it with the toe of his slipper.

It cracked and shattered like thin sugar glass, collapsing inward just a few millimeters before whatever force was holding it in existence failed and it faded, the other dome falling apart in a similar fashion almost simultaneously.

Underneath, Frisk lay bleeding and barely conscious, her upper body covered in razor-thin cuts, all of which were bleeding, the blood joined by twin streams trickling from her nostrils.

The boy screamed as he was slammed into a nearby tree hard enough for the wood to protest, the knife flying from his hand and landing point-down on the ground. Sans stalked forward until he was only a few feet away from the kid, the flames in his eye flaring as a pair of Blasters formed around him. "What'd you do to her?" He demanded, cold fury bubbling in his voice. "If she's dead, kid, I'm going to take you apart piece by piece."

He only stared at Sans, his expression shell-shocked. When he finally spoke, it was quiet, small. "She- She did all that... B-but she... H-how..."

"What did she do?" Sans asked, his voice a growl. "What did _you_ do?!"

"She lit the world on fire," he whispered, his voice shaking. "But she didn't let me get burned... W-why... Sans, why is she... So... Kind?"

"'Cuz she's not you, kid," he growled, his head tilting at an angle as the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps heralded the arrival of Asgore and Toriel. "Tori, Frisk is hurt," Sans called out. "I'm going to... Take care of the one who hurt her."

He was just about to drag Chara through a shortcut when he felt something tugging at the leg of his shorts. He glanced down, going still at the sight of Frisk reaching up, one eye closed with a cut just above the brow bleeding across it. The other was open, the butterscotch hue pleading. Her lips moved, but he couldn't make out the words, so softly were they spoken. Crouching down, he leaned in close. "What was that, kid? I couldn't hear you."

She took a breath, her voice only marginally stronger when she spoke again.

* * *

In the days and weeks after that night, Frisk recovered from her fight. Using so much magic all at once, magic she hadn't practiced with and had no real idea how to control, had drained her so badly that she was out of school for almost two weeks recovering. After hearing Sans's call, Asgore had summoned up his trident and simply brushed aside the underbrush slowing them. When they got to the clearing, it was to find Frisk alone and unconscious in an oval of healthy grass, bleeding rather heavily for someone so small. It had taken much of Tori's strength to patch her up again, and even she couldn't heal the kind of exhaustion that Frisk felt afterward.

It was almost three months later that Frisk stood, shifting and fidgeting uncomfortably. She was well-dressed, and looked almost like a princess; she wore robes much like those that Toriel wore, though tailored for a bit more ease of movement for an active child, with a part on the side. Under the blue robes, the Delta Rune emblazoned on the chest, she wore a pair of fine gray pants, reinforced with extra cloth at the knees and hips. The pants were tucked into a pair of supple leather boots that looked sturdy enough to hike in, though the shine of them suggested they were either new or well-maintained. A leather belt, inlaid with an ornate design, held her robes closed at her waist, and also held a pair of deerskin gloves at her right hip. Over all of this, she wore a blue cloak that fell to about her ankles, and a silver-and-gold circlet wrapped about her forehead; not as ornate as a princess's circlet, perhaps, but befitting the station of Ambassador, Toriel had said.

It was nearing the end of the day, and the end of her first full day spent as an actual ambassador, rather than simply a figurehead. She'd had Toriel and Asgore with her throughout the hours-long meeting with men in suits, their hair styled and their smiles uncomfortable, but ultimately, the choices she'd made were her own. The Monsters were being recognized as a legitimate kingdom by the Humans at large, which meant they were being acknowledged as an individual country led by a king and queen. And that meant they had to make trade agreements, immigration agreements, and a host of other agreements that, technically, fell to Frisk as the Monsters' official Ambassador.

Toriel and Asgore had done most of the work, though. They read the documents, explained them to Frisk in much smaller words than the legalese that they were written in, and helped her weigh the pros and cons of each 'agreement.' Three trade agreements signed, eight more denied, an immigration agreement signed, four others denied, and a host of 'establishment' paperwork to confirm that the Monsters did indeed reside within their own country, sovereign of the desires of the people who owned the mountain and its surrounding land.

The part she was able to help with was over, and she'd gone out of the stuffy conference room while Toriel and Asgore finished the social niceties required of them. As she stood their waiting, she heard a familiar shuffling sound, and glanced up as Sans circled around a corner, his seemingly ever-present grin in place. "Hey, kid," He called, raising his hand as he walked over to stand next to her near the doorway into the conference room. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I think we're past the point of pretending your showing up in places like this is simple chance," Frisk said tiredly, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. She still felt worn out, even so long after what had happened; Sans said that she'd put her soul through a lot of stress, and it was still recovering. All she knew was she slept far more than she used to, though she was sleeping a little less every day. "Did something happen?"

"Nah, kid; I'd have come runnin' if anything had happened," he said, chuckling. "Right after I said 'I told you so.' But... You got me. It's working. You sure it's a good idea, though?"

Frisk laughed, cracking one eye to look at the skeleton. It was her right, the one that had been glued shut with blood all those months ago. She could feel Sans's gaze tracing the incredibly thin scar over her brow. "I'm ten, Sans. I have no idea if this is a good idea, or even what a good idea is."

"Eleven," Sans reminded her patiently; her birthday hadn't been but a couple of weeks ago. "And technically you're in your late teens, y'know, what with all the resets."

"Shut up," she grumbled, reaching over to push his shoulder lightly. "Doesn't matter how I think, everyone sees a t- an eleven-year-old. The only way to be seen as older is to get older..." She sighed. "I miss Asriel, Sans."

"Me too, kid," he said softly, reaching out to ruffle her hair, drawing an indignant sound from her as she tried to bat his hand away. "But, really. You think this is going to go well?"

"I think it's going to go horribly," she admitted after a pause, folding her arms. "but there's not really any way to make it go well. I think the best situation would have been-" she broke off, shaking her head. "But, no, it's way too late for that. We have to do what we can, right?" She spread her arms. "We could keep hiding it, but that's just putting it aside until later. I've been... Hinting at it for a while now, getting them ready. This is the best time."

"Best time for what?" Asgore asked as the door opened, the hulking Pwqa stepping into the hallway with Toriel stepping out behind her.

"A little trip," Sans said with a grin, hooking a finger in a 'come here' motion. Turning, he made his way to another door and reached out, opening it despite the lock it had to have been sporting. Curious, the two goats followed Sans through the door, and Frisk followed them through last, closing the door behind them.

They stood in the old throne room, not the one in which Frisk had first met Asgore but an older one, from the Monsters' first descent into the Underground. Home, the first underground City of the Monsters, had been mostly abandoned when New Home had been founded. But despite the age of the room, it was actually very clean.

"Oh, my," Toriel gasped, her hand covering her mouth as she looked at the old tapestries on the wall, proudly displaying the Delta Rune. "Fluffybuns, it's the old throne room... It looks so new! And the- The thrones..."

Asgore remained silent, staring at the three thrones in the middle of the room. Two large thrones sat in the middle of the room on the top of a tiered dais, each made of dark wood and carved with a crown, one a mirror of Asgore's, the other of Toriel's. Another rested on a tier below them, on the right, and though there was no crown carved into it, there were still some white hairs in the plush red fabric.

But a fourth throne rested on the opposite side, the wood paler, but the worksmanship no less fine for its younger age. It had been carved after the wood from the Surface had been used up, so it was little surprise that it looked different. It was also etched with different markings from the others, the structure of them different. And unlike the other three, this throne was occupied. As the attention of both the King and Queen of the monsters came to rest on the robed figure, it stood, shifting nervously. Taking a steadying breath, Frisk stepped around Asgore and Toriel. "Mom, A- Dad," she said slowly, turning to look at them.

They only dragged their eyes from the figure with an effort, their faces revealing confusion, with just a hint of hope.

"When I first brought you all out of the underground... I worked so, so hard to save everyone. I thought I had; Undyne and Alphys, Sans and Papyrus, Mettaton and Blooky... And even Asriel." She smiled a little, turning to walk over to the figure, standing next to them. "But I didn't. Even while you smiled with Asriel, you wept, because he was only one of your children..." She paused, shifting a little. She felt like an actor, playing a role in some bad story.

Another voice picked up where she left off, the voice drawing stunned gasps from the pair. "But nothing is gone forever... You told me that, remember, Dad?" Pale arms slipped free of the confines of the cloak, reaching up to untie the tie holding his cloak together. The thick fabric fell away, the hood catching briefly in light brown hair. Then it was gone, and Chara stood shifting nervously, glancing side-long at Frisk. "I-I... I'm home..."

As the two parents rushed forward to encompass second child in fur and sobs, Frisk stepped back, and remembered...

* * *

It was only two weeks after the fight with Chara that Frisk finally convinced Sans to take her back Underground. When they'd arrived at the building that had been home to Toriel for years, it had been to find a Chara much changed from the upset boy he had been. Asriel's rebirth had woken the monsters as a whole to the idea that their lost might, by some slim chance, return. When Chara had begun walking among them, as himself rather than a new human, he'd been welcomed.

Of course, it wasn't so easy as that. For the first several days, Sans had remained close by, ready to end any attempt on a monster's life. But on the third evening, Chara had sought Sans out and broken down. He'd apologized for all the timelines he'd controlled.

"It never happened," Sans had said, seemingly uncaring at the carnage the boy had wrought. Then he'd turned empty eyesockets on him and said, "But I won't forget that you killed Papyrus once, you dirty brother killer."

It wasn't a happily-ever-after moment, certainly. Even by the time Frisk finally returned to the underground, he had been tearing himself apart over the decisions he'd made. He'd apologized for making her do everything that he'd ever made her do, and much like Sans, she replied that it had never happened. Unlike Sans, however, she meant it; she only remembered those resets through his eyes, for the most part, and she couldn't bring herself to hate him. Only pity him, something that stung his pride but that he accepted.

Over the next several months, the two of them had spoken at length; she'd skipped a number of after-school meetings with human friends on the surface to speak with him. After he'd gotten past the apologies and the guilt, she'd pushed him towards a different path; atonement. He'd been punished enough by Sans and by his own guilt; now he had to be noble, and become better than the person he'd been in the past.

* * *

She stood to one side, and she felt an arm go around her shoulders. She glanced away from the trio to look at Sans, who was now only a few inches taller than her. "It's going well," he said, his tone bemused. "Thought you said it'd go horribly."

"It is, for Chara," she said, closing her eyes. "He knows he'll have to explain why he died now, what happened back then. It's going to be really, really hard for him. But he's alive now, even if he is some kind of human-monster hybrid. That means there's hope." As she fell silent, she turned her attention inward, to the little tug of sensation that she'd come to recognize as Asriel. Reaching out, she pushed her thoughts against that sensation, like a child trying to speak to a dead loved one in their thoughts.

 _Do you hear that, Asriel? There's hope. Please find your way back to us, Cinnamon Roll. If Chara and I are the hopes of the monsters, you're their dreams._

 _Come back safe, Asriel._

 _ **A/N: WOOOO! So, holy crap, that was nothing like what I intended to write when I started this chapter, but the characters got away from me. I'm sorry if this take on Frisk is unpleasant for all of you; I've always seen Frisk as something of a Martial Pacifist, a Martial Pacifrisk if you will. If there's any option to do something without hurting someone, she'll take it, but if it comes down to it, she can hurt someone if it means nobody dies. I do so hope that all of you reading this are enjoying my Frisk and her adventure thus far.**_

 _ **My next chapter comes up on the 31st of this month, the last day for the month of May, and to be honest, I'm not certain where things will wind up when my next chapter is up. As much as I want to do a few slice-of-life chapters, I'm afraid I'm not really good at that kind of writing, and as poor as it is right now on my side, I only want to give you guys my highest-quality stuff. So myself and Whisper are discussing options, seeing what we're willing to do and so on; you'll know come my next update what we decided. In the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy my work! As always, questions, comments and criticism are all welcome, be they in private message or as a review on the story.  
**_

 _ **And one last thing, I apologize so sincerely for how late this chapter was posted. I've been having internet problems for the past week, and the guy isn't due to come out until Friday. I SHOULD have internet stable by Whisper's next update, but I'm not certain. If I'm late on my next post, it's likely due to that.**_

 _ **Take care of yourselves, and as always, Stay Determined!**_

~Cookie


	9. Chapter 8: Twists and Turns

That which is most forbidden, is often what is most desired. This, a truth that has rung out through the ages since time immemorial, was the only thought that could have possibly crossed the mind of the lonely king, sitting on his throne of longing, clad in his shining white coat and violet crest.

 _'That which is forbidden, is often what is most desired...'_ The thought circled through the ancient king's mind as he stared down at the man before him, the Human that his guards had brought before him. The man, an older example of his species, stared right back up at the great king he had been forced to kneel before, his arms held stiffly to either side by hulking, armored, knights. Older though he was, the Human's gaze was no less defiant, his stubble covered jaw set and crimson-gold eyes narrowed at the monster that had already committed so many atrocities. If he was to die, he would not die begging.

The ancient king stared down, narrowing his eyes in return, and took a deep breath as he rose from his throne. This nonsense, this senseless defiance, was beginning to irritate him, and his court was as appropriately quiet as a group of people that wished to continue living should have been.

Every step he took down from the dais and its two thrones seemed to shake the room, but, even with the king's great stature, that was not possible. No, it was more as though the air shook, as though the world around him, between him and his ancient foe, vibrated.

The king's guards, those ever loyal knights that had served their posts for so long, finally dropped the Human's arms, taking involuntary steps to either side out of fear of their lord's wrath. The king made no mention of them, they had served well and their fear, as unfortunate as it was, was well founded.

"Well?", the Human asked, his eyes flashing from pure gold to angry crimson and back again with every passing second, "Are you going to kill me, oh great king? Or is it that you merely wish me to bow my head and name you majesty of all that you survey?" His voice dripped with venom, ever word laced with the undying bitterness of the ages long past and yet to come.

The king stopped before his foe, towering over him as he towered over most everyone across the wide world, and stared down at him as though a god considering a mere ant. The Human was nothing, less than nothing, and, yet, the ancient monarch could not bring himself to strike the man down.

"Go on, your majesty.", the Human hissed, "Cleave me in half, split my soul in twain and take it into yourself, _**make me your slave.**_ Whatever you intend to do, get it over with."

The monarch considered the man's demands, and simply shook his head, his silver eyes unblinking.

"What, will you make me beg for my own death? Will you stoop so low?", he asked, incredulous.

It was as the monarch was about to speak that hurried footsteps drew his gaze to the court's side and another Human, this one a younger man, that slowed to a respectful walk as the king's eyes swept over him. The king recognized the boy; he was one of the many servants that served, of their own free choice, under the court's appointed doctor, and it was this knowledge that brought a flutter to his weary heart as the boy approached, his hands clasped and head hung low out of fear and reverence both.

The boy strode silently up to the king and his foe, both men watching the boy and his clasped hands as he stopped before the two titans. What was he to say? It was not news he dared speak, and so he simply offered his right hand to the monarch, from it dangling an ancient golden chain.

The great king stared down at the chain, the ruby pendant at its end still encrusted with crimson, and his decision was made for him. No more. If what he desired was forbidden, then they who forbid it would burn. They would burn, but not within mortal fire.

The ancient monarch turned his eyes away from the pendant, his gaze falling across the kneeling man before him even as the man returned his crimson-gold eyes to the king. No longer were the monarch's eyes beautiful silver moons, no longer were they the envy of all the world's shining diamonds, for his eyes had become as black as ebony shining in the night, ringed in thin rings of bloody red.

" **You do not deserve death."** , the king spoke in an echoing whisper, **"You do not deserve that which you so callously granted Her."** It was with these words, as a creeping chill seemed to consume the great hall, that the ancient monarch's shadow seemed to rise up around him, its smoky silhouette framing him as the monster he'd been so called.

The Human simply smiled, his crimson-gold eyes beginning to close as he allowed the relaxing anticipation of oblivion to consume him. "Get it over with, _'Cinnamon Roll'_. I don't have all day."

The monarch's face contorted, an ethereal snarl of almost primal hatred working its way from his throat, and, as the shadow washed over them both, the great hall was finally deafened by silence so great the world itself seemed to simply...fade away.

* * *

Asriel was falling. Again. He was really, really, starting to get tired of falling right back to where he began, but, supposedly, it built some kind of character. Certainly he could use the practice in his new body, but...was it really necessary for him to always fall RIGHT back to the beginning?

A loud thud echoed throughout the spacious environs, or, at least, a loud thud _would've_ echoed throughout the area if sound traveled more than a meter in the strange place Asriel had been taken to. He'd been brought to this world, a place where the mist never seemed to lift and the sun never quite seemed to break through the roiling clouds above, what felt like an eternity ago, and he'd spent every second bettering himself. Some, those more keen of thought or consideration, might have asked the Prince why he never slept, why his eyes hadn't closed beyond a blink since he'd arrived. Asriel had asked himself that numerous times, but, as his mentor had said so, seemingly, long ago, "The dead do not sleep, Asriel. Why should you?" A chilling thing to hear when scared, tired, and thoroughly lost, but something that had stuck with the Prince from then on.

These days, however, Asriel had become all too used to directing himself from one activity to the next, and, as he pushed himself to his feet, his mind was already flitting through a series of practices he could do to further stretch his unique ability to fly. Pwqa, like Humans, weren't meant to fly, or so he'd told his mentor the first time the odd creature had suggested that he could, but now? Now he was easily reaching several dozen feet into the endless sky, each flight was taking him higher, and he knew that, some day, he wouldn't be so limited in strength that he had to strain himself and then fall limply back to the world below.

Sighing, Asriel looked around, stretching his arms until his shoulder joints popped satisfyingly. It really was a bleary, black, world, but, he shrugged, it was home. The only remnant of his old home that he still had was the locket that hung around his neck, his fingers unconsciously rising to absently paw at the little golden charm. It was a bit tight now, the chain not originally having been meant for a neck as thick as his had become, but it still sat, mostly, comfortably under his thick white fur. Asriel figured he was nearly taller than old Mettaton now, his body having filled out rapidly once the shadows finished their work. It'd been painful as they healed his wounds, sure, but nothing, even after so long, was quite as painful as thinking of his old friends and family, and wondering if they even still remembered him.

The thoughts that spun through the Prince's head stopped him in his tracks as he was walking towards yet another of the misty world's many odd, geometric, landmarks. This time, however, they did not go away so easily. Normally he could will them away, normally he could simply concentrate on his training, both physical and magical, and push them aside. Not this time. This time, for whatever reason, something was different.

Asriel's mentor, the shadowy, faceless, figure that had saved him from Chara's tunnels, had disappeared what felt like years ago, and yet flaming tick marks Asriel had kept burning every day since counted only eighty-three days. He was... _fairly_ sure he was approximating the length of a day right, though it had taken some time to get his internal clock working correctly. Regardless, his mentor had been gone for far too long, and ever since he'd disappeared, Asriel had been thinking more, and more, and more about the life he'd once known. The Prince, as limited as his knowledge of the misty world was, couldn't honestly believe that that was a coincidence.

Still stopped in the middle of the empty, strangely solid abyss, Asriel furrowed his brow. _'Why am I here? Why am I still here after so long?'_

The thought ran through his mind like a bulldozer, shoving every other thought aside as he suddenly realized that he'd been blindly following the lead of someone, or something, he couldn't even name, someone that didn't even have a face. The thought was upsetting, and it gnawed at him.

Turning around, then around again, Asriel surveyed his environs, taking in every inch of the formless, shapeless, black mist and the faint outlines of grey and black land that seemed to jut out of the plains under his feet. There wasn't anything to help him, nothing to give him an indication of where to go or what to do, but Asriel, suddenly, wasn't playing the part of the good little student any longer.

Prince Dreemurr wanted out, and his mentor had given him the tools to finally succeed.

* * *

To shape the world under ones feet as though it were naught but sand and clay, to sift through reality as though it were little more than a piece of cloth to be toyed with, cut apart, and stitched back together, to look in on what mortals called time with a perspective so broad that it seemed to defy probability itself; these things were what it meant to be a god, and the presence that watched over Asriel considered itself to be on the precipice of that ascendancy.

The nameless void watched over the young Prince as he muttered, whispered, meddled, and plotted, its black eyes watching from within a formless face as he began summoning up all of the magic that he'd been taught. The magic of the elements, of physics, of reality, and of the soul. He had been taught all of these things in an effort to make a vision, a prophecy of sorts if one was to be superstitious, come true. It was all done with good intentions of course, and, besides, it was ever so interesting to watch.

Around Asriel the misty, empty, space began to shift and twist, the symbols he'd drawn on the ground lighting up with a violet inner light, their light the only color in the dreary environment. The symbols would've meant little to most, they barely meant anything to him, but he knew their importance. He knew that the curving shapes, numbers, and strange letters combined to form runes, and he knew that, if he did it just right, he could manipulate whatever surface the rune was on. The shadows around him knew it too, and, though he did not know it, his old mentor was watching with the most genuine of smiles.

After spending so many hours working, it felt like days had passed, Asriel had covered what appeared to be miles upon miles of the misty ground with the runes, every single one glowing with a faint violet light that seemed to come from within. Even in a place where he needed no breath, food, sleep, or drink, the Prince felt as though he was out of breath, and his blurred eyes gazed out over what he had constructed. He'd moved as though invisible hands had guided him, his mind blind to what the shape truly was, and now he was curious.

Around Asriel, though unbeknownst to him, shadowed hands and an iron will like nothing he'd ever encountered reached out and lifted him aloft as his tired wings reappeared, their violet membranes catching a nonexistent wind as he soared high above the misty ground. His mentor wished him to see what he'd wrought, and when Asriel's eyes locked on the massive shape, his heart soared just as high as his wings had taken his body.

It was an unbelievably massive, faintly violet, outline of a doorway.

Though more specifically an archway, the door looked almost too detailed to be real when viewed from high above, and Asriel could scarcely believe that he'd actually just drawn out such a thing. He fully understood, however, thanks to a little voice in the back of his head, how to activate it, even though he felt almost too giddy to even try.

"Ancestors and heavens above...", Asriel whispered as he floated, seemingly oblivious of how he was flying and didn't feel tired, "Let this work, please, let this work..."

Whether it was his begging or simply his sheer willpower, the violet flames that gathered in his hands, his eyes mirroring their amethyst color, seemed to bring the doorway to life. Every violet glow intensified as soon as the flames appeared, and, as they became pillars of fire in his hands, the ethereal arch almost seemed to take physical form.

It was not Asriel's choice, however, that had him soar even higher, nor was it his choice to roll over in mid-air and watch as the black, endless, sky began to reflect the violet flames in his eyes. It was disturbing, worrying even, but something in Asriel's gut told him he was safe. Why wouldn't he be safe? That same little birdie, after all, was telling him that he was in the presence of his mentor once more, and the ancient, formless, faceless shadow was most definitely smiling.

Asriel had roughly seven seconds to look into the black, misty, clouds as violet lightning roiled throughout them, and then he was falling, his wings having disappeared as easily as a match snuffed out by the rain. Of course he screamed when he realized that he could hear his own heartbeat again, because that meant hitting the ground was, more than likely, going to hurt a great deal.

In that moment, as he fell towards the flaming arch, all Asriel wanted was what he had desired so long ago; all he wanted was to be with his family, all he wanted was to go home, all he wanted was to be an innocent child again.

 _'_ _Not yet, my little Prince. It is yet forbidden._ _'_ , a voice echoed in his thoughts, and all Asriel Dreemurr could do was snarl and cry.

* * *

Asriel was falling. Again. This time, however, he had little desire to curse his luck or the fickle nature of his misty home, all because, this time, the sun was shining down on him. Asriel was stunned by its light, the golden rays having not touched his, once again, silver eyes in what felt like eons. It burned.

Even through the black haze that seemed to cover him from his feet to his head, his clawed feet were easily visible as he was falling head first, he could make out blue skies, the blinding golden sun, and white clouds for the first time since he was a child. It would've been beautiful if he could've also spoken without the air being ripped from his lungs, or stopped his inexorable fall towards the world below. That would've been desirable certainly, but, his mentor's haunting thoughts lingering in his mind, he knew all about the folly of desire.'

The very thought elicited a nearly feral growl from the Prince's throat, one of the only sounds he found he could make easily, and he tried to turn his head just enough to see the ground below. A few seconds later, he really wished he hadn't done that.

To anyone watching, that being anyone within thirty miles of Mount Ebott, it looked very much like a black comet suddenly ripped its way through the beautiful day's fluffy white clouds and streaked towards the Earth below. Roughly ten seconds after its appearance, the black comet simply disappeared, hitting the forested hillside with little more than the sound of rustling trees carrying on the vibrant wind.

At ground zero, at least Asriel thought that's what Humans would've called it, the Prince was alive and well and surprisingly intact considering his fall from forty-thousand feet moments earlier. Though, if he was honest, Asriel really didn't want to be alive.

For the first time in innumerable ages, Asriel could feel every bone in his body as his skeleton lie fractured on the ground, its breaks and chips, and his body's numerous small tears and cut, knitting themselves together as the black mist finally began to recede. It took him several minutes before he was up, holding his head in one hand while one silver eye scanned around the new clearing he'd created.

Broken branches were still falling, some as thick as his arm, and pollen and leaves were still fluttering down as though riding gentle currents of air. The sight, coupled with the pleasantly cool mid-day air and warm rays of the sun that broke through the newly opened canopy, was actually incredibly relaxing. Somehow, though, Asriel didn't feel like he'd be getting many chances to truly relax from there on out. He had a job to do, after all.

Standing up, his once again newly healed joints creaking with strain, the Prince groaned and then sighed in no small amount of pleasure as every joint in his upper body seemed to crack all at once. At least there were still the small pleasures in life.

"Hnnh...this place.." Asriel, his eyes blurred by the dust and particulate in the air, looked around the clearing, letting out tiny groans as he tried to walk on unsteady feet. The place he was in...it looked all too familiar, yet he didn't quite know why.

"Why...", he whispered, his eyes narrowing against the sun, "Why am I here..." And as though in answer, his hand unconsciously slipped into his long black robes and pulled out an old photograph, a photo of Asriel's old friends and family. All he heard was, " **It's time to play, Cinnamon Roll.** "

 _ **A/N: Late again, but work sucks. So, enjoy this one, as short as it is, but it's jam packed with content and, according to Cookie, mindfuckery out the wazoo. I've taken that as a compliment. Also! Cookie will be a little late since he was waiting on me and had to build off of my work, but it should be coming soon.**_

 _ **Till next time.**_

\- Whisper


	10. Chapter 9: Departure

_**A/N Preface) What have we gotten ourselves into?**_

 _ **So, Cookie here. Hope this one makes up for the long-arse delay. My muse took a hit during a sparring match and is only just recovering. Fortunately, we're getting into the bit where the storylines for Frisk and Asriel converge, so for a while at least, we'll be co-writing the chapters. Which means I don't have to worry as much about screwing up alone! Yay! But, yes, myself and Whisper are now co-writing each chapter, which means a longer delay between scheduled posts, but significantly more length on average than I or he were managing on our own to compensate. Hopefully, this will mean we can pump out some quality for you guys! As ever, let us know if you've questions, comments or concerns. And without further ado, let us read~**_

* * *

"Is that all you've got?!" Chara demanded, that scarlet-edged knife sweeping down towards her. Eyes narrowed, Frisk batted the knife away, the flash of motion in the corner of her eye the only hint she got before his second knife swept up, the edge rasping softly against her shirt as she lunged backwards. Gritting her teeth, she planted a foot and pivoted, stabbing at him with the blunted point of her spear, watching as he ducked underneath the point, dashing in underneath her guard. She didn't have time to gulp, didn't have much time at all to react on a conscious level. Instead, she jumped, curving her body over Chara's and planting the butt of the spear against the ground as a vault, giving herself enough time to regain her feet, facing Chara. Sweat ran along her cheek, though the mid-morning air was rather cool.

But he hadn't spent her time in the air simply blinking in surprise. She grunted as his booted foot found her ribs... And he wasn't holding back. She felt bones pop and crackle in her chest, at least one rib breaking under the force of the strike. The air rushed from her lungs, the kinetic energy transferred into her sending her several feet to the side, landing in a tumble.

But she didn't cry out; even as he followed after her, she got her feet under her, diving to one side as his knife sank into the ground right where her heart would have been. Reclaiming her feet, she threw out one hand, several more spears forming in the air around her before streaking towards her opponent.

Chara just straightened, adjusting his grip on his two knives; they were purpose-made, the kind of things a rogue might use in an MMO... Though not nearly so showy and hard to use. His hands flashed, right, then left, then left again, cutting the spears out of the air and dispersing them into mist. "Is this all the Ambassador of the Monsters can do?" He demanded as he approached, knives flashing and chopping the next four spears she summoned from the air. She felt weariness tugging at her, dimming her vision... But he was still coming. "The 'Savior' of the monsters?"

She took several steps back, her grip tightening on the spear she held, an edge of panic buzzing at the corners of her mind... Panic that grew with every step he took, with his every word. "Is this all that Frisk can manage? Some paltry tricks, a few spears? What was all that training with Sans for? What was all the training with Toriel, with Undyne, with Papyrus for?" He snorted, looking around at their battlefield; torn apart by their clash, and yet, so much of it had been caused by him, not her. And he barely seemed out of breath, while she was...

Gritting her teeth, she fought against the panic, butterscotch hues wide despite her efforts. They flicked about, seeking out something to give her an edge. They returned to Chara as he spoke again, like a mouse's eyes turned towards its feline tormentor. "This is pitiful. How you ever defeated Papyrus, I'll never know, let alone Undyne, or Mettaton." he shook his head, cinnamon hues locking on her as he lunged, his knives flashing.

She was on the defensive, spear twirling and spinning as she fought to protect herself, to deflect the blows aimed at vitals even as scarlet seams opened on her arms, her hands, her shoulders. Panic grew greater and greater, her Determination cracking. She threw up her left hand, her off hand, and green energy poured from her palm, creating a solid barrier that took blow after blow from Chara's knives.

It was as silver cracks began to form in it that Chara spoke again. "A little girl so close to tears as you doesn't deserve to stand at my brother's side."

Asriel. _Asriel._ Her mind blanked for just a heartbeat, emptying of everything but a face. A face she'd imagined for so long now. Removing the roundness of childhood, in part, and adding leaner lines. But eyes that were immediately familiar, a quiet little smile like he'd worn when he thought she wasn't looking, horns parting his hair.

 _What's wrong, Frisk?_ The Asriel in her mind asked, his voice the same one she was used to, though she tried to deepen it. _Is this really everything you've got?_

"No," Frisk growled, the panic fading, her Determination firming up in her mind. Solidifying into an almost physical force that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. It was what made her Frisk; the Determination to continue on, the Determination to stick to the course she'd decided on.

There was a snapping sensation, like a strap suddenly coming undone, and scarlet filled her sight. Ittook her a few moments to realize that it wasn't in her mind; the green barrier she'd had up had changed; even now, the green was being invaded by veins of red, spreading farther and farther along the barrier and turning it red. It took only a second or two for the barrier to become one solid semi-sphere of red energy. Chara's blades smashed into it, but no cracks appeared despite the force of his blow.

" _Patience is all fine and good,"_ Undyne had once told her, _"But it's not you. Well... not alone, anyway. You're Determined, Frisk; that's just who and what you are."_ She hadn't felt it at the time; in fact, she hadn't felt as solid and confident as she had in the Underground since...

Chara was in her sight, having ducked around the barrier while her attention was elsewhere, his knives flashing at her stomach. Butterscotch hues narrowed, and the barrier in front of her dispersed, reforming mere inches from her stomach. Steel rang out as the knives impacted with enough force to knock her staggering back, but her mind was sharp, focused like it hadn't been for nearly a year now.

She struck, noting only in passing that the spear she held had gained its own scarlet hues; sparks flew as Chara deflected it, but it was hardly the only thing Frisk was sending his way. With a snap and rumble, a bone leaped from the ground, ivory as though bleached by the sun, punching up into the air.

Chara jumped back, avoiding the blunt end of the bone with inches to spare, knives flashing through the air in glittering arcs as he chopped spear after spear into a fine mist. The bones that followed were given a similar treatment, but unlike the spears they didn't simply disperse upon being struck, shards shattering from along them with every strike that carved furrows through Chara's skin.

He didn't look panicked at the abrupt turn-about; he looked grimly satisfied, a fact that actually threw her. Her attacks halted, and after a second, another voice called out from nearby.

"Alright, that's enough, kiddo," Sans called, stepping onto the torn and tormented turf that the two had traversed. He wore his usual grin, hands in his pockets. "Looks like you figured it out, huh?"

Frisk blinked, turning confused butterscotch eyes on him. "Figured it out?" She asked, frowning. "What did I figure out?"

Sans was silent, and after a few moments, Chara sighed. "Why you're losing your spark," he said at length, sheathing his knives in the twin scabbards on his hip; he was bare from the waist up, dressed in jeans and a pair of hand-made leather boots. He, like Frisk, was toned and covered in a layer of sweat, but unlike Frisk he hardly seemed out of breath. Some of that was likely his new status as half-Monster... or some such, but the rest was a mystery to her. As were his words.

"Losing my spark?" She asked, blinking again. She was dressed in a sports bra and shorts, courtesy of Undyne; she'd insisted, and Frisk had come to agree, that training in much more was simply an uncomfortable, hot affair. "What do you mean?"

"Jeez, you just don't stop surprising me, kiddo," Sans said, eyes closing for a moment. "Sometimes you say things that make you sound older than me, and that's sayin' somethin', and then there're times like these... What'd you score on your final Math test?"

Confused by the sudden question, Frisk thought for a second, casting her mind back. "It was a B. Why?"

"English?" Sans asked, ignoring her question.

"B."

"Alright. How about PE? How'd you score on that obstacle course?"

Frisk was silent for several moments before answering. "Average."

Sans nodded. "The sprint?"

"Average."

"The Long-distance run?"

"Average."

"You see what I mean?"

Frisk was silent, but she did see. She was sharp, at least in most of the things that School taught her, but her biggest trait had always been her athleticism. The year before, she'd scored EE, or ExceededExpectations, in every PE test, which compared her against the rest of her class. Even if everyone else were catching up physically, she should still have been Above Average, if only because she could outrun and outlast just about every person in her class. But she'd only done as well as most of the others.

"So, what does this have to do with my spark?" She asked, finally releasing her hold on her magic, letting the spear fade away into a fine mist and folding her arms.

"You were always Determined to do something before, right?" Sans asked, shrugging a bit. "Determined to get everyone out of the Underground. Then Determined to actually get **everyone** out of the underground. Then Determined to give them a place here in the Human world. But even before the last Amendment was passed granting Monsters the same rights as Humans, you were slowing down. Your grades have dropped by almost ten points on average, you know."

"And? Maybe I'm just not as smart as-"

"That ain't it, sweety, and you know it," Sans interrupted, sighing. "Alright, I'll be blunt. Ever since Asriel disappeared, you've been... Winding down. Like all of a sudden, since he's not around, it's not worth it to give your all."

Frisk was silent for several minutes, then let out a long sigh. "What if he's dead, Sans?" She asked, her arms tightening around her middle. "He hasn't so much as sent a letter since he left. It's like he's disappeared from the Earth entirely. He wouldn't just leave without a word for that long... Would he?"

Chara had been quiet to this point, but finally, he spoke up. "If he'd died, I'd know. He's still alive, Frisk."

"Then where is he?!" She demanded, turning on him. He took a step back, blinking slowly, but he remained silent. "Exactly!" She said, stamping a foot. "He's missing, dead for all we know, and- And there's nothing I can do! I can't just _find_ him, there's too much ground, it's been too long! And even if I could follow his trail, I couldn't follow it faster than he made it! I'd always be behind, and-"

Chara cut her off by raising a hand, and after a moment of silence, he spoke. "You always say that we're all your family now," he started off, his tone tentative; sometimes he acted just like the prince he technically was. Others... He seemed even less certain than Asriel. "But didn't you say you had family, off of this mountain?"

Frisk blinked and tilted her head ever so slightly, staring at him quietly, her expression one of confusion and pain. "What about **them**?" She demanded, her arms tightening around her midsection.

"Why don't you go find-"

"Why should I go find them after- They never came to find **me** , did they?! My name has to have been a big one when we all first emerged. They had to have known I was alive, that I was here, so _why didn't they come to find me?_ " Her voice almost cracked on her last word, and she bit down the rest of her sentence for several seconds before speaking again. "They don't care about me, or they would have come to find me already. Why should I go find them?"

"Because they're your folks, kiddo," Sans said with a wry smile, drawing her butterscotch gaze back to him. "Because if you don't, you'll always regret having the chance but never taking it. And because if you don't, you'll always feel bound to 'em, instead of being able to settle things once and for all."

Frisk glanced between the two of them, then let out an explosive sigh, head falling forward so her chin rested against her breastbone, hair concealing her face. "You two have been talking about this for a while, haven't you?" She asked, something like amusement in her tone.

"I wouldn't say 'a while,'" Chara started, only to be cut off by the skeleton.

"'Bout two weeks, actually. Long enough to think we're right, not so long that it became a plot." He chuckled, glancing around. "At least, not our plot."

Chara raised an eyebrow at the Skeleton, then shrugged and turned to Frisk, smiling a tiny smile. "We thought... You know, having something to concentrate on would give you a little energy. We thought it'd give you something to actually devote yourself to, instead of just living."

"And besides, a change of scenery would do everyone some good," Sans said with a shrug, chuckling. "Ya have the money they paid you as ambassador, y'know. You could be anywhere in less than a day."

"No," Frisk murmured softly, pausing briefly before speaking in a louder voice. "No, I think I'll get home the same way I got here. I'll walk." She smiled a little, finally raising her head to face the two of them. "I'll take my phone with me, put some batteries in one of my boxes so I don't have to worry about running out of power on it. Put everything I'll need in one, actually; a couple weeks' food, some clean clothes, batteries... And I can call you guys any time I need to talk, or you can call to talk to me."

Sans grinned, pulling his hand from his pocket and tossing something underhand to Frisk. "Already done, sweety. We spoke with Alphys and the others already."

Frisk blinked, her hand snapping out almost automatically, plucking her cell phone out of the air, the same phone Alphys had upgraded years ago in the underground. The same phone that she'd upgraded dozens of times since. "I- You really have been plotting this for a while, haven't you?"

"Kind've," Sans said with a shrug. "But we're not runnin' you off, Frisk. I don't want you to think that... It's just that, somethin' tells me that if you don't get goin' soon, you'll come to regret it."

Frisk blinked, her gaze sharpening as she stared at the skeleton. "Just instinct? Or...?"

Sans shook his head. "Nah, just instinct. I'm as clueless these days as you are, kid. 'Sides, if it were anything else, you'd have known the same time I did."

Frisk nodded, smiling and sighing. "I guess you're right..." She looked around, then folded her arms. "So... It might take a while. A few months, maybe. You- You guys'll come visit while I'm gone, right?"

"Of course," Chara said with a small grin, stepping up and slapping her shoulder. "Mom'd have my head if I didn't go, too; I'll just leave a couple days later... Alphys is getting my phone ready, but unlike yours, she has to upgrade mine from scratch. Apparently, it's harder than she expected."

Frisk nodded, her hand clenching tightly around the phone in her hand. "Promise? I'll go slow if you want, so you can-"

"Nah, don't wait up for me," Chara laughed, shaking his head. "Just get goin', Frisk."

Frisk smiled, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Chara, hugging him tight. "Take care, Chara," she said softly. "The path is dangerous, especially for you." Then she took a step back, only to step forward and wrap her arms around Sans. "Take care of mom and Asgore for me, okay?" She asked, kissing his bony cheek. "I'll give you a call when I make it to the city, okay?" Turning, she took a long, deep breath, then set off at a sprint. It felt… Abrupt, hurried. But then, that's how a lot of her life had felt since the Monsters escaped. But this also felt right; she needed to put her past to bed.

Besides, it was just a little hike.

* * *

 _She stood in the shadows, an arm wrapped carefully around her side, her teeth gritted against the pain of the barely-closed wound. She felt... Well, a lot of things, the most obvious being pain. Her whole body hurt, like she'd fallen down a rather steep cliff and hit a number of rocks along the way, and glancing along her body, she figured she probably had. Bruises marred what flesh was exposed by her torn sleeves and wasn't otherwise claimed by cuts, scrapes and gashes._

 _Memories flickered to the front of her mind as she stood in a shadowed alcove, hidden from those who filled the hall, drawing her from a simple observer into the body of the woman in this hall. She stood there, and she watched; that was what she had to do, after all, was watch. Nobody in the vast hall knew she was there; she'd slipped in through a crack barely perceptible to those who could feel them, one that may as well not exist for any others. Few, very few, could have sensed the crack, and she had taken hours to slip inside. Hours of the focus within the hall being focused on the pair of thrones, the single massive individual sitting on the largest, the smallest covered in a plain white sheet._

 _It had been a week since she'd been here last; a week since the ambush, the betrayal. A week during which she'd limped along, barely managing to summon up the energy required to keep her body from failing completely, saving up scraps every day to cobble together into her trip into this place._

 _She felt heavier than she was used to, and yet it was simultaneously a familiar weight, a kind of dream-familiarity. Her hand rose from her side, brushing across the thin plate that made up her breastplate. Curiosity begot knowledge, as oft it did within the world of the dreaming, and she could imagine herself; a silver breastplate emblazoned with a scarlet Delta Rune, wrapping around the vitals in her chest cavity but leaving her stomach bare. More steel, riveted over supple leather, wrapping her thighs, hips, and shins in protective plates. Her shoulders boasted slim, shaped pauldrons, and her upper and forearms were wrapped in metal as well, as though she were some kind of warrior queen. And a sword hung at her left hip, an old sword that felt heavy with history, history that teased at the edge of her knowledge but did not come to her sleeping mind. All of this covered by a heavy, violet cloak, the Delta Rune emblazoned in Scarlet on the back, a cloak unique to one person in her own time._

 _Then a hush fell in the chamber, and her eyes rose. The lord of this hall was facing off with his killer, just as they had a week previous... And yet, she knew well that this was not the same place. That had been the whole point of her exercise, of the immense amount of energy she'd expended that could have healed her entirely. This wasn't the world in which she had regretted the minimal coverage of her armor, of her trust in those she felt were friends. No... This was the world in which it was the King who had lived._

 _Someone rushed in, scampering closer to the King; she didn't recognize him, but then, that was just one of the subtle differences she was seeing. She couldn't see what he held out to the king, but she saw his reaction. She knew what was coming next, knew it instinctively._ 'No,' _she thought, fear jolting in her chest._ 'This must not go as it wishes... Not this darkling history.' _She stepped forward, her steps silent as she moved forward. Those within the hall stepped back from their lord's outrage, and yet some few did see her. Gasps were drawn from startled throats, and her way was cleared up to the line of knights. That was enough._

 _Gritting her teeth, she dashed forward, towards the line of knights whose job was to keep these nobles from the acts of their king on his throne and its surroundings. A startled shout echoed, a confused gasp of "Assassin!" echoing. She might have snorted, had her teeth not been creaking with the force of her jaws and her breathing been ripped from her body even as her side tore open once again. She leaped, clearing the circle of knights as easily as the hurdles of her childhood. Throwing out one hand, she clenched her fist, scarlet-edged bones ripping up out of the ground between the king and his prisoner. Blood poured from her side, splattering wetly against the ground, but she ignored it, ignored the pain._

" _Hold your wrath," she gasped, even as the world began to swim. "Y-you, of all... Of all people, are no slave... To the will of an outsider... C-Cinnabun..."_

 _The world faded to black with an abruptness that might have scared her if she were able to think on it. She felt herself falling forward, her hood falling away to reveal auburn hair, a simple golden circlet her only concession to her... Former station._

* * *

 _She came awake only very slowly, and only after several false starts, quickly cut off by the pain in her side and her generally blood-deprived state. When she finally did come awake, it was dark. She was dressed only in her underwear and the miles of gauze that seemed to be wrapped around her middle, and though she contemplated sitting up to survey her surroundings, she didn't so much as shift. She felt both drained and energized, physically worn-out as her body struggled to repair damage that had been fatal but full of magical potential from a long rest. She hadn't been so full of magic since..._

 _She shied away from the memory, instead grasping at the magic within and focusing it, encouraging the healing that her body was already doing. Healing magic, basic but rather powerful and efficient for that simplicity. She'd been taught well. Eyes closed as she concentrated, feeling her magical stores dropping, pulled away and used to accelerate her body's natural repair processes._

 _When she finally stopped, it felt akin to a polar shift; physically, it was as though she'd been on bedrest for a week, the pain a distant throb in her side, the bruises that colored her body gone. Magically, she had dropped to dangerously low levels; if she had to fight, she'd be very limited in what she could do._

 _Only now that she'd patched herself up did she sit up, albeit slowly, and look around. She was in the castle's keep, in one of the many beds of the infirmary. Most of the other beds were empty; there weren't many injured in this world's little upheaval, it seemed. Only one other bed was filled, a clean white sheet pulled up over a slender figure's head._

 _She turned her gaze away, having no desire to see herself dead._

 _It was only when she turned her gaze away that she realized that she was not, in fact, the only living person in the Infirmary. In fact, she wasn't even the only one with a heart-shaped ruby pendant hanging from a chain about her throat; there were two being worn in this room, both glowing a soft crimson, the connection evidently strong enough to link even to other stones from a separate timeline._

" _Asriel," she said, words spoken softly on an exhale._

 _Shadowed eyes hidden in his black clawed hands as they were, Asriel didn't notice the glimpses of movement right in front of him until Frisk's whisper thin voice reached his ears. The monarch, his crown laid aside on an end table beside him, snapped his head up towards the sound and focused his eyes, eyes that glowed like unearthly shadows until silver began to creep back into their coloration, on the woman he loved._

 _Or, rather, her doppelganger._

 _"...Frisk?" His voice was weak, as though strained, and the gaunt curves of his wizened face were only accentuated by the dim red-orange glow of the wall sconces around them. "Good...you're actually awake.."_

 _Frisk smiled, a breath escaping her lungs in a sudden burst of emotion. A knot of pain that had been pressing on her heart for nearly a week finally eased, though it by no means vanished. She knew this was not_ her _Cinnabun. But it was Asriel, none-the-less, Asriel in almost every decision he'd made. That was more than she could have hoped to have in her own timeline._

" _Thank goodness… I had thought you lost…" she paused, then laughed faintly at herself. "And then, at the moment of my arrival, I go and nearly die anyway… A fitting way to 'return from the dead,' I suppose… Are you well, Cinnabun?"_

 _Asriel's smile, as faint as it was, slowly grew once he realized he was actually staring at a living version of Frisk. 'Version' was, of course, the operative word, considering that the cloth covered shape lying not five feet away from this new Frisk had once looked, talked, walked, and...fought very much the same. Still, this was better than a corpse._

" _I'm….I've been better, but seeing you, like this, is...a relief.", he admitted quietly. The monarch rose from his chair and leaned over her sitting form, a gentle hand finding hers as though the movement had been long practiced. He looked...pale, which, considering his white coloration, was a terribly silly thing to say, but he nonetheless seemed, in some way, ill at ease._

" _I'd..thought you lost much as you say you worried for me, Frisk… All I knew was what my eyes had told me, what my heart felt, and the final bell the doctors tolled...I watched you die, and yet here you sit.." To say his eyes, now silvery moons as they naturally were, had become sunken and even further shadowed was an understatement, it was as though her return was as much a relief to him as yet another dagger between his ribs._

 _Frisk nodded, her hand turning to lace her fingers between his, as much a natural reaction as anything thought out. "I-" she broke off midway through the syllable, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "We were standing upon a cliff, gazing at the view. A sunset. I know not who struck the blow, but… I felt your- his-" she broke off again, taking a breath. "I felt my Asriel's hand turn to dust. I barely had the time to turn before a sword had found my stomach. My vision turned red, and from that moment until I lay crumpled at the base of the cliff, all I knew was pain."_

 _She opened her eyes, turning those butterscotch hues up towards Asriel. "But I cannot believe that it was destined. There is… Something wrong about it all. That is what I thought while I healed myself of my broken bones, replaced lost blood, and staunched the bleeding from the stab. So…" She smiled a little. "I searched. I touched what even my teacher never could, and explored realities. And I found this, the first of thousands of histories in which you survived the months surrounding this time. Be it betrayal or simple assassination, one or both of us dies in the three months before or after this moment."_

 _She breathed a soft sigh, her hand tightening in his own. "This was the first history in which I saw at least one of us surviving this time frame. The first hope I'd seen… And I could not ignore your pain."_

 _Asriel blinked, his gaze singularly focused on Frisk as she recounted her memories and he nodded along. It was wrong, all of it, but he knew that it was not his history she spoke, but her own. It was a history far removed from the time they both now resided in, one where she had felt the same pain he had and ever so much more. At that very thought his hand tightened around hers, only enough for her to feel it, and his jaw set against the rage in his heart._

" _That you came this far for me, my dear, says all anyone ever need know about us, yet….I wish to know only one thing.." Asriel took a deep breath, as though the act would keep his emotions at bay, and his silver eyes did, indeed, remain pure, no matter how much he wanted to feel that change. "For all that has happened to you...all of this pain, this...suffering, why…" He trailed off, his eyes locked on hers as though mesmerized, but his question was painfully clear; why had she stopped him? Why, of all the times to return, had she stopped him from obliterating the one being that deserved it more than any other? That, no matter how hard he tried, was something Asriel could not answer, though he nonetheless had a sickening inkling of the thoughts that ran through her head._

 _She sighed, eyes closing again. "You'll think me mad, Cinnabun," she said softly, her tone composed despite the knowing pain it held. "But I stopped you because of what I saw through those times. Those histories I looked through, those deaths I witnessed… To say that I saw the strings would be a lie, but I cannot deny that all those who did the killing did what they felt was best. And all of them were guided by one who did not reside within their own place. By a person or thing outside of the lives we and all others live."_

 _She opened her eyes once more, gazing across at the other occupied bed. "In my place, Chara and her descendants were ever loyal. Many had died at our sides, many had proven the solitary support we could rely upon through all turmoil, when even our most loyal of knights fell... So much of this place is the same as my own, and of it all, everything I've seen shows that to be true… Until this moment. Why, I ponder, would a person with no animosity abruptly turn to murder?" She turned her gaze to Asriel. "To say I see strings would be untrue, but I see signs. Thousands of deaths, both myself and you, Asriel. Thousands of men and women, sometimes the same, sometimes different… but all acting out of character in their killing._

" _I do not feel, my love, that he was truly the one to strike. He, like all the others I saw, was no more an active participant of your Frisk's death than the weapon he used."_

 _Within Asriel boiled the rage of a monarch defied and wronged, the innocent fear of the child he once had been, and the justified hatred of a husband whose life had been all but ripped apart in a single instant. His expression, though, was that of one whose patience was infinite and one who could for nothing and no one more than the one that then sat before him. The duality, his mind and body split between two very different sets of feelings as Frisk explained her actions, tore at him from the inside out, yet all he could do was sit on the bed beside her and drape an arm across her lap._

' _You are so fragile…', he thought to himself, the silver in his eyes slowly becoming marred by flecks of gold, 'So sweet, kind, and cunning….yet still so fragile even now. How cruel.'_

 _Asriel sighed as she finished. "How cruel is fate...that we should be forced into this hand, if indeed your thought is correct.", his tone somber yet as dire as their situation warranted, Asriel's eyes turned back to Frisk's, "I have little doubt, unfortunately, that you are. Puzzles have always been your forte, darling." He smiled, his memories dancing back to half remembered times in their youths before his countenance shifted at the sound of feet behind him._

" _M-my lord…?", a hesitant voice asked, "The...the prisoner ha-"_

" _Escaped." The declaration came so forcefully from Asriel's mouth that one would have thought it shouted, yet his voice was no louder than a whisper. The man that had brought the news, a Human guard by the looks of it, quickly nodded, bowed his head, and turned to leave. Asriel, however, was not about to abandon Frisk, not when he'd only just gotten her back._

" _This we must deal with, but deal with it we will when you have finished your rest. I can only pray you are correct, dear one, no matter how poor a light this puts_ _ **her**_ _in." His eyes shifted back to Frisk, the silver slowly becoming pure once more, and his smile slowly faded. "Tell me more of your time, Frisk, and of this Chara you said was a...she?"_

 _Frisk's gaze turned towards the guard, a wry little smile touching her lips at his reaction to Asriel's forceful tone of voice. "Thank you for advising us," she said, her own tone softer, but bearing the steel core of a leader. "We will see to it. Please, if you would leave us for a time?" She waited, watching the guard leave before turning her gaze back to Asriel. "I've oft said you should not be so curt with the guards when you are stressed, Cinnabun."_

 _She paused for a moment, gazing into his eyes for several seconds. "So strange," she murmured with a small smile. "That I can read your hues as easily now as though you were shouting your emotions, and yet so few of the others can glean anything from them…" She shook her head, then turned her thoughts farther into the past… Much farther. "Chara… She was much as your own was. Once a scared child, but when given the proper guidance, she became quite the courageous, and powerful, individual. But where your Chara remained human, my own became… Not fully, perhaps, but partially a Monster. She stopped visually aging at twenty-seven, much to her husband's eventual shock." She nodded a little, her hand rising to touch the emerald at her breast. "This was a gift to us," she said, before holding up the plain golden circlet that wrapped about her left ring finger. "A gift on our wedding day, to be precise. She had spent months working on the pair, tying them together that we would always be, in some way, together."_

 _Her expression grew grim. "When the wars began again, she and Undyne were amongst our best and most loyal. Both had had children by then, you understand; Chara in the natural fashion, and Undyne after some tinkering on Alphys' part. They never explained that, mind, don't ask me how. They had descendants, and they felt they fought for the right cause. They were oft on our front lines, to our foes' great displeasure. They were both killed in a sneak attack, one which my Asriel and I only survived by a stroke of luck, arriving ten minutes later than we were meant to. We ran off the killers, but it was too late… both were dust. From then on, both their descendants served us with great honor and distinction."_

 _She turned her gaze away from the past, back to his eyes. "Do you perhaps see why I stayed your hand? A descendant of Chara, as that man must have been, would not have stained the memory of their ancestor in such a cowardly fashion."_

 _The patience with which Frisk handled the humble guardsman, not to mention the ease with which she read into Asriel's eyes every time their gazes met, struck the monarch like a bolt up his spine, a chilling reminder of how cross and vengeful he'd become. Yet, even with the chilling reminder drawing his head closer to her shoulder, the peace she managed to instill in him by simply being nearby was not enough to prevent the rage that seemed to boil out of nowhere from erupting._

" _Then Ulric was merely_ _ **weak**_ _.", Asriel snapped as Frisk sought to defend the man he'd seen murder her...other self, "He was_ _ **weak, a pathetic child just as he'd always seemed, and you died because of his failure.**_ _" Every word was said quietly yet with unmistakable venom, though it little helped that Asriel's entire body had tensed up and his eyes had once again begun to glow as though lit by red tinged shadows rather than light._

 _The monarch stood, letting go of Frisk's hand half out of fear of hurting her as his grip threatened to clench even more tightly. "_ _ **Perhaps he deserves not death at my hands, perhaps that is too good for a failure of his magnitude.**_ _", Asriel snarled as he turned to the door, a servant outside quickly hurrying past before the king's eyes could fall across them, "_ _ **Questions. Questions for him, answers for us. Simple. Then we might throw him to the crows and ravens he seems to so adore.**_ _"_

 _Frisk breathed a soft sigh, watching him as he stood, turning away from her. She didn't take more than a moment to move; she'd done more healing in this moment than she had in the last week. She was in much better condition that some might think, given the severity of her wounds when she had passed out. She slid to her feet, standing upon the bed simply to get the height she needed, hopping just a little before wrapping her arms around his neck, her relatively slight weight nothing near close enough to choke the massive Pwqa. "At ease, Asriel," she murmured, eyes closing as she pressed her face into the side of his neck._

 _She remained still for several seconds, hanging from him like a cape despite the sharp twinges of pain shooting through her side. Then she let go, bouncing back onto the bed before taking a step back. "Before you condemn him," she murmured, her tone hesitant; clearly, she didn't enjoy saying this. But despite that hesitance, she continued; a queen could not hold her tongue when the words might change all. "Think, I beg you, on the changes you have undergone since leaving the underground. I've no proof of it, but I've little doubt that our killers were the only ones to be changed out of their natural, ordained progression by the one holding the strings."_

 _For all of his rage, no matter how justifiable it might have been, Frisk's touch was enough to drive the shadows from Asriel's eyes almost immediately, his shoulders slumping as though the normal, calmer, Asriel wasn't strong enough to bear some unseen burden. The monarch sat down heavily beside Frisk as she dropped back to the bed, his eyes silvery once more with only the barest flecks of crimson remaining in their coloration._

" _I...I know you are correct..my love…", he grimaced, placing a hand against his temple, "I have not felt so alien in my own body since...not since I was young...not since I f-fought you.." No matter his age and wisdom, no matter the immense power he clearly wielded, Asriel was nothing when faced with the truth that Frisk laid before him. She'd always seen more clearly than he had, and he had been changed as much as she seemed to fear, he knew that was true. He remembered his past, and...yet...he remembered so many pasts that not all of them could've been his, right..? "I think….I think I will follow your lead for...now…", he hissed as the pain worsened and then, mercifully, began to lessen, "You see more than I do...my love, and clarity is...necessary in these..trying times.."_

 _Asriel smiled at her, as weak as the gesture was, and dropped his hand from his head to once again lay it across hers. As lucky as Frisk though herself to find an Asriel untouched by such terrible events, even this comparatively unscathed one had not escaped their joint nightmare entirely. His hand, the one he laid across his own lap, was missing three of its fingers completely, a detail made all curiouser by how fragile he'd always seemed in the past._

 _Frisk wasn't going to ask; she wanted to know, but… She had no desire to press her Cinnabun into reliving that memory. She pushed her curiosity, and horror, aside and simply grasped his hand, squeezing gently. "I would hardly say I see things more clearly," she said with a shake of her head. "Often, I only see things because I have the opportunity to. Like here, now, I can tell you of these manipulations only because I have seen so very, very many. Thousands of iterations, all ending with your death at the least, and often both our deaths." She smiled a little. "I'll grant you this, you never simply stand by. Finding you alive without stumbling into the midst of that fight has proven… Near impossible."_

 _She paused, eyes closing. "I do not think we can halt this… Being, whoever they might be. We've the power, to be certain, but… Tell me, love, did our many years of relative peace, without either of us being significantly harmed, make you forget?" She paused, giving him a few moments to ponder her words and their meaning. "I forgot, for quite a while… but what was my greatest asset within the Underground? It was not my speed, nor my strength. I was not significantly more intelligent, either. It was my ability to Reset, even if I were to die… And yet, in near every place I've looked, we two both perish, and there is never a reset. I would not have left you willingly, and I would not have let you leave me by another's choice. Which means that whoever, whatever, ultimately kills us… It has greater Determination even than I."_

 _She shook her head. "I do not believe we can defeat this foe. You and I, we are old, strong beyond words. We wear our crowns because we've the strength to bear their weight… But still we fall, time and again. Sometimes in open combat, sometimes in a sneak attack, and sometimes in our own bed. We, old and powerful though we are… We cannot best this foe."_

 _Even with the lessening of the pain, Asriel's grimace worsened as she spoke. She had a point, of course, Frisk always had a point, but that didn't mean Asriel was willing, or even able, to accept that she was right. Not about this. He'd been weak before, been fragile, but he was not so now. He'd not been able to protect his love, that was a pain that would forever weigh upon him, but he'd been given a second chance, hadn't he? No, he was not losing her again, and no power, be it god or man, was going to rip them apart while he still drew breath._

 _Though that was a silent promise much easier made, than fulfilled._

" _Frisk…", he sighed, his eyes drooping as he leaned back against her, "Perhaps we should rest..my queen..." The monarch's eyes remained closed for a moment longer before opening and focusing on Frisk, upside down. He looked tired, drained, beaten. "Logic, reason, dictates that we should...compare notes.. It says that we should compare our memories, our worlds, our lives...perhaps find information or details within. Logic, just as Mother always taught, says that...but I am so...so tired.."_

 _Beyond even what Asriel meant, his words rang true. The logic he used was sound, at least to begin with, but he was not just tired from the exertion of his rage or from the sorrow of losing his beloved. Asriel_ felt _weaker. Physically? He seemed incredibly strong, if bent with age. Magically? As Frisk could likely tell, he was more than just drained, he was empty. Whether it was the fight he clearly survived, or his display of unearthly powers in the throne room, Asriel felt, to another's touch, so drained that he felt hollow. It was little wonder his eyes kept changing, he had almost no control left to exert over them._

" _Then rest," Frisk said with a smile, pressing her shoulder against him. "Rest, and recover. I'll not be going anywhere whilst you slumber, of that I can assure you. I will have a couple of hunters track your prisoner, so that we do not lose her entirely whilst we are recovering, and we can see to her later. Recover yourself, Cinnabun, the kingdom will stand when you awaken…"_

* * *

Frisk woke to the crack of thunder, the lightning strike seemingly right outside the little tent she'd set up. The girl sat bolt upright, butterscotch eyes huge with surprise and adrenaline, a choked cry escaping her before she could silence it. Clutching at her breast, where until recently that golden necklace had rested, she shimmied out of her sleeping bag and pushed aside the flap, peeking out into the night beyond. A storm was gathering; she sighed, closing the flap and zipping it shut, then shuffling back and curling back up inside the bag. As her eyes closed, she felt the distinct feeling that she didn't want to fall asleep, right before the darkness reclaimed her…

* * *

 _Though the rest of her body was cold, her arm and right side were warm, as though someone had splashed her with bathwater. It was a familiar feeling to her; much like the spirit whispering in her ear, she had never been a particularly peaceful individual. It had only grown worse in her time in the underground; reset after reset, she emptied the underground of life; it hadn't taken much urging from the spirit to turn her lethal. And then she and her partner had hit upon a glorious idea; what if, rather than killing everything, they had spared everyone? Rather than killing Asgore in the throne room, they tried to convince him they were helpless? Perfect prey for such a coward… Would they be able to escape the underground?_

 _It had taken a few resets to get it right; irritation had, more than once, ended the life of one of the 'boss' monsters; Undyne had been the first, and the very next reset had seen the oaf Papyrus touch on her nerves one time too many. 'Date'? Why would she bother dating such a simpleton? The hardest, of course, had been Toriel. Such a coward; she had had an idea of what her child had planned for the Underground, and hadn't done a damned thing. She'd wanted him dead… It took them six resets before it stopped being instinct to cut her down._

 _By the time they finally fought Asriel, it had been rather easy to avoid cutting him down right then. His fight, compared to Undyne's alone, had been child's play. And then… Then they'd returned to the surface. Years, it felt, had been spent in the underground. Years before they had come across the idea, and so very long before they'd finally succeeded._

 _Now they stood over the corpse, warm blood dripping from the point of their dagger, coating their arm, soaking into their clothes._

" _We're finally back," Chara murmured, manifesting before her eyes. She'd learned already that he wasn't real, that nobody else could see him. But it was reassuring, seeing his thin frame seeming to stand on the other side of the inert form before her. "It took so long… All of those fools underground, all of these fools up here… But we're finally here. And it's only one so far, but we have the entire planet!"_

" _We do," she agreed, her lips curling in a fierce, inhuman grin. "And I know just where to go next…"_

" _After we've finished here?" Chara asked, turning to look towards the nearby window. "I don't want to leave until we're finished here. Until everyone here has paid for what they've done."_

" _After," Frisk agreed, stepping over the body and striding over to the window to join Chara. "After we're finished here… I think I'll go home~ After all… I've so very much to thank my parents for~"_

 _He looked over at her, his smile joining her own. "I see~" He almost purred as he perused her memories. "My, my, you've a sordid past, haven't you, Frisk? Heh… No better than mine I suppose. Yes… We'll kill everyone who wronged me here, then we'll take you home~"_

* * *

Frisk let out a cry as she sat upright again, her body coated in a cold sweat. Outside of her tent, birds twittered away, happily ignorant of the human's adrenaline, of her fear and foreboding. She could feel the details of her latest dreams slipping, fading away, but she couldn't grasp at them… But several things caught in her mind. One of her dream selves had found a way not just to see the events of another timeline, but to cross into them, without resetting. How much power that must have taken, she couldn't imagine, but the idea was more than interesting.

Another detail was that there was something out there, something that her subconscious apparently thought was guiding her motions. She wasn't of the paranoid persuasion, though she did have a healthy bit of caution… but if her subconscious was willing to throw such a vivid dream at her, she had to at least contemplate the idea that it could be something she was actually noticing. After all, she had very little control over her personal powers, the ability to Reset and Save, and even then, Sans had said that most of her control over the two abilities was subconscious, instinctual. What if there were more powers, powers like the ability to cross time lines, that she only had a vague awareness of?

There were other little things that stood out, like how she and Asriel had been _together_ in the dream, but she shoved that aside, saved it for later. She'd confront those demons when and if Asriel ever returned… If her face ever cooled off.

But then there was the second dream… It had felt so distinctly wrong, and yet it had been every bit as vivid as the first. The Frisk in the dream… As the Dream Chara had touched her memories, Frisk had relived them, bit by bit. They were so very similar to her own, real memories… And yet, the dream's Frisk had been bathed in bitterness, chewing over those old memories until they had become… Toxic, a poison that had hurt her far more than the things that had been done to her ever could. The Underground had become the place where she could take out her hatred and rage. And the people there had suffered.

Could she have really been that person? Could she have been so cruel, so uncaring at the loss of life? Could she have slaughtered someone and actually _liked_ it?

No. But that Frisk could. That Frisk was able to do it, she knew, again and again without remorse.

Frisk grimaced as she opened her phone's storage, a window of light opening in front of her. Rolling up her sleeping bag, she pushed it into the window, watching as it vanished. "I'm not that person," she told herself firmly, before setting about disassembling the tent. "I'm not, and I never will be," she paused, then sighed and turned her gaze skyward. "Right?"

It took her very little time, indeed, to get camp broken down and stored away on her phone, much in the same ways that she had stored away her sleeping bag. Her eyes turned skyward, up into the cool sky. "Is it worth it?" She asked the sky, as though beseeching the gods for an answer to some life-defining question. "They never gave me anything when I was with them. Why should I be bothered now, when I have a family, a _real_ family?" She paused, then sighed and smiled a little to herself. "But Sans and Chara both told me to do this. Ignoring them both would be stupid, huh?"

She slid through the foliage that surrounded her little camping clearing, walking only a few dozen feet before emerging onto the road once again. "Here we go," she said at length, her hand dropping to tap the phone in her pocket. "Only way to go is forward, I guess. The past isn't coming back without a reset… And I'm never Resetting it all again. One True Reset was enough." She paused for a second longer, then set off along the road once again, the burgeoning City of Monsters at her back.

* * *

Chara hummed as he strode through the ruins within the forests of the mountain, scarlet eyes flicking to and fro. It was so odd, he thought, exploring these remnants of life on the mountain. The remains of villages that must have once held Monsters, the remains of villages that boasted humans… And the oddest to his sight, the villages that must have been built to accommodate both humans and Monsters.

That, more than anything, had interested him in these ruins since he had been reunited with his parents. He was dressed in something rather similar to his old sweater, though larger and better fitted. The light green fabric clung more closely to his musculature, more easily visible despite the covering, and the yellow stripes that circled him remained, as iconic to him as Frisk's blue and violet was to her. However, this new clothing boasted a Delta Rune, emblazoned in white on a black shield right over his heart, a small scarlet heart inverted between the wings, a single black crack running through it from bottom to top. It had been his own design, a parallel to Frisk's personal take on the design, but it symbolized his status quite well; A prince, once fallen but redeemed.

Of course he wore his usual jeans and the well-worn boots that Toriel had made for him so very long ago, as well, and as he always did when not going to school, he carried those two daggers on his hips; straight, flaring slightly near the base before meeting the guard, a keen edge sported by both the front and back-facing blades. Each pommel boasted the unaltered Delta Rune, carved in three dimensions within clear crystal; no matter what he did, these weapons would belong to the Royal Family.

His hair was still a mess, though he had actually showered twice that day; once upon waking, and again after a solo training run had left him soaked in sweat. A quick lunch, and then he'd been off, eager to explore the latest ruins, which looked to him to have once been a small fort, a checkpoint with a garrison more than anything. The outer walls were almost entirely reclaimed by nature, the gate buried under several feet of dirt save for in one spot, a hole that Chara had nearly broken his ankle in when he'd found the place days earlier. Within, only the keep remained, and that only barely; broken walls, no ceiling to speak of, and only a slope of earth that covered what once was a staircase up to the main entrance.

He'd wound up climbing the inside; he wanted to see what he could see from above, and the ruined walls of the keep just beat out the surrounding trees for height. It was there, sitting three or four stories above the ground and snacking on a bar of chocolate that his eyes were drawn skyward by- By a black comet.

What.

He watched as it descended, breaking off a small piece of the bar and chewing it as the comet fell, closer and closer- and hit with a rather loud detonation, quieter than one would expect from such an impact, but still quite loud enough to carry all the way back to Toriel and Asgore's humble home. Blinking slowly, Chara grasped the bar between his teeth, then stood with barely a wobble and took off.

He wasn't a ninja, he couldn't run through trees, but he could descend through the canopy without halting his forward movement; he leaped from the wall into the surrounding trees, briefly grasping and swinging from various limbs until his boots found the ground. Then he ventured onward, ducking and weaving between trees with less grace than Frisk… but not by much. Duck, weave, jump, land, weave, and on and on… Until he slid to a stop at the edge of a small clearing that boasted little of note.

Little, that was, save a crater in the ground and a bleeding tall Pwqa. Biting through the bar of chocolate, he let the bar fall into his hand, his lips curling into a genuine smile. "Leave it to you to go and grow up without me," he called out, knowing that profile even through its changes, its odd clothing. "It's been…. Too long, Asriel."

Asriel stared down at the picture in his hand. It was old, as old as his memories and yet older still, and it was missing one thing that stood out in his mind. It was missing him. He thought these people were his family, his friends, or, at least, that's what his fractured memories told him was true. Why, then, was he absent? He recognized them, he knew their names, but he felt nothing for them. All he felt was a kind of exhausted...apathy. Why should he care for them? They didn't even include him in a photo of their entire family, or….or his memories were wrong. In that case, what care should he have had for strangers? **"That's right, cinnamon roll, just forget about them for the moment. You have other business, they come later."**

The voice hissed in his head like a rasp across stone, but he knew that it had a point. His mentor, his master, had sent him here for a reason, more than likely yet one more insufferable test. Whatever he had to do, it involved these people and the forest he stood in, and he was sure the voice in his head would tell him everything he had to know. It'd never led him astray, after all.

The former prince's head whipped around at the sound of a voice, the eyes that focused on Chara now silver rather than the bright blue and green of his youth. His eyes had always changed color without him knowing, but never before had they been quite so...empty.

"Chara." He spoke the name that came to mind almost mechanically, his eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight as he examined the boy a few feet away. He'd changed from what Asriel remembered, as muddied as those memories were, but he was still very much the same, crimson-eyed, little boy he knew he'd once called a friend.

So much for 'friends for life', huh?

"Where are the others, Chara?", the lordly Pwqa demanded, his spine straightening as he turned to face Chara, "My business is not with you. Not yet." As frosty a reception as it was, Asriel was very clearly different in more ways than just the physical. No one normal could have survived that fall, and even the cuts that still showed across his face and hands were rapidly beginning to knit themselves back together. The effect was reminiscent of Toriel's immense healing powers, yet there was very little magic in the air to be sensed and Asriel had never been all that talented at healing; he was proficient, of course, but his mind had always wandered too much for him to be all that adept at magic of...really any kind.

As far as seeming alien, his apparent regenerative talents aside, Asriel was doing a fairly decent job, considering his last appearance to his old friends and family had been as a meek child. Now he stood just over six-foot-six and looked as solidly filled out for his apparent age as Undyne, minus the ripped guardswoman's musculature. The most striking change besides the physical, however, must have been his robes. Once, long ago, he'd worn a simple shirt and leggings not too dissimilar from Chara's own, now, so many years later, Asriel was clad in black and muted violet robes that almost appeared armored after a fashion. From the wide collar to the wrap of the robe and its sash, and even the emblazoned family crest over his chest, a crest now sporting white cracks through the thin plate it had been woven onto, he looked more like a sorcerer ready for war than a prince ready for a reunion.

" **Perhaps it would be to our advantage to shake his confidence, he always was a nuisance when he was brave, wasn't he?"** The voice hissed again, bringing an infinitesimal wince to Asriel's eyes. It had a point though, and Asriel sighed with a growl deep in his throat. "Do not try to lie to me again, Brandt. I remember your tricks all too well."

"Tricks?" Chara asked, an eyebrow rising, his expression cooling. "You mean the many times we actually played together as brothers? Or do you mean the time you and I concocted a plan to get the Monsters out of the underground- a plan I died for?" He glared at the Pwqa now, heat bringing a blush to his cheeks. "Who do you think you are? You know how much everyone panicked when you disappeared? Frisk was hours behind you, and she wanted to go out into the wilderness without so much as a change of clothes to find you. Mom and Dad searched for days, and even Sans threw his lazy butt into gear to try and find you."

He stopped, but only for a second. "And let's not talk about the last few years. The years you've been gone learning how to glare at your brother like he was some maggot, the years that your family has spent worrying, day in and day out, whether you're even still alive. Years watching as Mom and Dad adjusted to losing their son a second time, and watching Frisk curl inward like a wounded puppy who'd lost their litter mate!" He was shouting now, but he didn't seem to notice. "You disappeared, and even my coming back wasn't enough to get the shadows off their hearts- and the first thing you have to say to me after I ate buttercups by the fistful and died so you could get a soul and travel through the barrier is 'Where are the others'?! I got used to everyone else not knowing what I did for everyone, but you, of all people, acting as though I tried to kill you?! Like I'm your enemy?! Who the hell do you think you are, Asriel Dreemurr?!"

How curious. For all that had changed, for all the ways in which Chara seemed to have matured, he was still nothing more than a child whining for attention and recognition. Recognition for what? Genocide?

Asriel smiled an all too wicked smile as Chara's shouts finished echoing off into the forest, his heart beating far more softly than he was sure his once-brother's was. "I know exactly who I am, Chara Brandt.", the Pwqa answer slowly, "I am the prince of the Dreemurr family, I am the heir to my father's throne, and I am all too merciful for not having struck you down on sight." The venom that dripped from each and every word was woven beneath layers of tone and poise, but it was there all the same. It was like acid slowly creeping across the clearing between the two brothers.

"You ate the flowers so that we might travel above and reclaim this land. You ate those flowers and died, you left me **alone** , even though I did not wish for it. I **TOLD** you not to, and yet you did it anyway.", the prince snapped, taking a single step away from his crater, "I never **wanted** you to die, Chara, I never **wanted** for my father to kill a single soul more than he already had, I never **wanted** **to see you BUTCHER everyone I'd ever known and loved.** "

Asriel let his words sink in for the briefest moment, his head tilting to one side as his smile became just slightly more twisted. "Or did you think that I hadn't seen? That I hadn't been privy, in my weakened state, to the horrors you wrought? Did you think I would die so easily to a simple **KNIFE?!** "

As though his words alone had power, the around them began to bend and flex, leaves falling as though shaken by a mighty wind, and the air itself began to warm until the temperate forest felt almost tropical. Asriel's own emotions were getting the better of him, and nowhere was that more clear than in his once silver eyes, now beginning to burn an unholy red-ringed black.

 **"Do you remember how mother died, Chara? Before Frisk changed everything? Do you remember how she bent over your tiny body as you drove a knife into her heart repeatedly?"** The glow within Asriel's eyes burned brighter with every word, and each word took on a darker tone as he slowly stalked towards Chara. **"Do you remember Papyrus? How he believed in you so fully, even as you severed his head from his body? Or maybe Undyne as she clung to her duties, defying you tens of thousands of times before her soul finally gave out? Do you remember ANY of this? Or are you just as hollow, callous, and wretched a demon as I came to believe you to be?!"**

Asriel finally stopped, staring down at the boy he'd once considered to be his closest friend, his brother in all things until death did them part and then far beyond, and he watched Chara's face. He wanted to see those crimson eyes break, he wanted to see the heat in those spotted cheeks flare, and he wanted to **feel** the pain radiate off of the boy.

Asriel, however, was impatient.

 **"** _ **ANSWER ME, CHARA!**_ **"** , he snarled, his eyes flaring with black flames and crimson embers as he barred fang like teeth more suited to the demon he described than a Pwqa prince, and all around them the world responded in kind as the ground began to burn under Asriel's feet and a crack as loud as a gunshot heralded a tree across the clearing splitting down the middle due to the stress of wind alone.

Chara glared at him, and for just a moment one might be able to see the demon he might have become, had he ever actually defeated Sans. Had he ever claimed Frisk's soul. Then it was gone, and someone else stood there in his place; not a prince, perhaps, but a warrior. Nothing about him changed, nothing tangible at the least, but suddenly he was not the demon that he had once been. "Father never planned to kill Humans until _after_ your death, Asriel, and you damned well know it. The only humans who would have died were the people who drove me away, the people who saw me as a demon before I'd raised a finger against them."

Then he snorted, glancing around them. "Look at you, Asriel. You want to claim you're better than me? Then let me tell you this." His eyes never flinched, staying locked on the Pwqa's gaze. "I killed them all. It sickened me at first, but it grew easier the more of them I killed. By Undyne, I was cold. A monster, not a Monster. And then I met Sans. And I never beat him. I tried and I tried until Frisk's Determination overwhelmed mine, and then she reset everything. Erased all my work. And do you know why I did so many things? Because the very first time I awoke, _you tried to kill me._ Before I'd so much as swung that stick she fell with. 'It's Kill or Be Killed,' Right, Asriel? I was just doing as you said. I died so that we could set the monsters free; I never wished the others any ill will. And the moment I come back to myself, a damned _flower_ tries to kill me."

"You were the trigger. You started the genocide, Asriel. I committed it, but you triggered it. And then you were brought back. You were given a second chance; she worked herself to the bone for _years_ to bring you back. So many times that you forgot. And you _ran away._ Without so much as a word to her. She wilted. She barely beat _me_ yesterday- no, she _didn't_ beat me yesterday. She can't even defeat me, the girl whose Determination let her stand up to you tearing apart her very soul. Because of you. Because you left. Because you might be dead."

He spread his arms, as if encompassing everything around them. "I came back, and I tried to kill her. I did, twice. And she still defeated me- and refused to kill me. You know what she told me?" His voice went abruptly quiet, but his gaze never wavered. "'I forgive you. For everything.' That's the girl you walked away from without so much as a goodbye. She shamed me, Asriel Dreemurr. She could forgive me, even when she'd seen my memories of my time controlling her. Even when she'd seen the desolation I'd spread through the underground, she forgave me and tried to help me. The first person to reach out to me, the first person to accept me, was a human, instead of my _**family.**_ "

He let his arms drop. "So I tried to be worthy of being forgiven. I explained why I got so sick to mom and dad. While you were _gone,_ I tried to make up for my mistakes, to be worthy of that girl's forgiveness, to earn the second chance she'd given me. While you were away doing gods-know-what with your second chance, I was working against the mountain of my crimes. I'm a prince now; officially adopted by Mom and Dad, sort of like adopting an heir. And I got to watch, for _years_ , as the two people I'd wanted more than anything to be free of the Underground grieved for a son they'd lost twice."

He snorted, shaking his head, not giving the Pwqa a chance to respond. "You ran away from your home, where you were welcome. From friends, from family. You squandered your second chance and made them all worry and grieve, all over again, and then you come back and call _me_ the monster, the demon? Get real, Asriel; Neither of us deserves the second chance that girl gave us. I should be dead. You should still be a soulless flower. At least I'm trying to earn what she gave me, what Mom and Dad have given me. And you know what? When they find out you're alive? _I'll be right back to being the outsider._ Because you're the Son. Because you're Asriel. Because you get to be high and mighty and oh-so-very powerful, even when you started out as a little crybaby who couldn't even live amongst humans for a few years until enough died naturally that you could break the seal without hurting anyone! You come back as though you own the world, as though you shouldn't even feel a little remorse for hurting everyone so much, while I fucking _drown_ in it!"

He didn't actually realize he'd drawn his weapons; they were simply in his hands, his posture open but hinting towards defensive. "You don't deserve the forgiveness they'll all heap on you, Asriel. You don't deserve to be her _Cinnamon Bun_ when you left her, and everyone else, for dead.

For all of the malice he'd summoned up in bare seconds' time, for all of the bluster and fury, Asriel could not maintain it against Chara's tirade. Was he right? Of course he was. Was he equally wrong? Likely so, in his own way. That didn't really matter in the end, now did it?

Asriel put a hand to his head, covering his eyes as though to keep a headache at bay as the world around them began to settle back into its natural order. What Chara didn't see, through his own seething rage and Asriel's furry hand, were the silver tears welling behind eyes that refused to let them fall. He refused to let that weakness back out, he'd already spent far too long trying to repair the damage it had done what felt like an eternity ago.

It was as Chara settled back into his fighting posture and Asriel righted himself, standing straight and tall, that he spoke, his hand never moving from over his eyes. Even without the eye contact, his words were no less genuine, and without even a hint of his former venom.

"I loved you as more than a brother, Chara. My parents aside, you were everything to me, you were so dear to me that I might have very well ravaged this world until the rivers ran bloody red had I the power." Asriel's tone softened, his eyes falling and slowly closing within his hand's shadow. "I would have done anything, if only to bring you back.."

Finally he let his hand fall back to his side, his red eyes focusing on Chara's equally crimson ones. "I may have triggered the events of the genocide, and you may have carried them out, but I did all that I did out of a desire to bring you back. **All** I wanted was to see you again, and it drove me to lengths that tore at my sanity in ways you cannot even imagine." Asriel sighed, his expression becoming as serious as his tone. "You broke the trust I had placed in you, as a friend and as a brother. You betrayed that bond so you could carry out your cockeyed scheme instead of waiting until we were both old enough to rule side by side...until we were old enough to actually save our people.. If it hadn't been for Frisk **happening** to fall into the caverns, our people, **OUR FAMILY** , would still be tormented by the ghosts and echoes **our** deaths left behind."

Asriel watched his brother, his red eyes cold and merciless and alien all the same, and he couldn't help but feel as though he was coming to know exactly how Chara had felt on the surface so many years earlier. He sighed, "You think of me as the monster? Perhaps I am, perhaps you are too, perhaps you're right and we should both be dead. That doesn't matter anymore, thanks to Her. Now, I will ask one last time; where are the others? I do not want to hurt you Chara, _not yet_ , but I will if I have to."

Chara snorted, not yet relaxing. "You don't? Could have fooled me for all the fancy effects you were tossing around." He took a step forward, staring hard at Asriel. "Funnily enough, you agreed to the plan, remember? Oh, you had second thoughts when I was _dying_ , but it was a little too late by then, wasn't it?" He raised his right-hand dagger, tapping the tip against his breast, over the Delta Rune on his chest. "This means more than you know. You, Mom, Dad, you were all that mattered to me. It might have been stupid in hindsight, but I saw my death as the perfect way to solve everything. After all, with seven souls, you might even be able to bring a human back from the dead. I gave up everything for the three of you, Asriel. My own, worthless life, and everything connected to it."

He spun abruptly, those daggers becoming blurs of silver as the streaked through the air, sinking halfway to the hilts in one of the surrounding trees. Then he crouched, heaving a sigh that held far more weight than simple weariness. "It wasn't your fault we failed, I see that now that I've actually thought about it for a few years. It wasn't your fault that everyone stayed trapped until Frisk showed up. Fate, I suppose, played a large part; had we not done what we did, then Frisk's arrival would have been like mine: noteable, but nothing world-changing. Those ghosts and echoes were what primed things so we could all be where we are today." He stood, turning again to face Asriel. Tears now marked his cheeks, but though they continued to fall, he didn't sob, his tone didn't waver.

"Asriel… I was wrong to say you don't deserve anything. Forgiveness. We don't get to decide if we deserve the things we get. And… It's too late to change anything. Even if we want to, it's too late to change the past. It's too late for me to take back all the horrible things I did, and it's too late for you to take back following along with my plan and running away. We- I wronged you. I did something horrible. I thought it would save everyone, but it was still horrible." he paused, then held up his chocolate, breaking off the several pieces that boasted grass from being dropped and tossing it aside before offering the rest of the bar to the pwqa. "I'm sorry, Asriel. I-I'm-" he broke off, his throat closing, his grip tightening on the bar. "I'm not worthy of being your brother."

That was exactly what Asriel wanted to hear. Rather, it was what the voice wanted to hear, it wanted to hear the proud butcher of the Underground sniveling and tripping over his own two feet for forgiveness, and it'd gotten exactly what it wanted. Asriel, on the other hand, was horrified, as much at what had come out of his mouth as he was at what he'd reduced Chara to, and it showed on his face no matter the voice's intentions. This was not the reunion he'd wanted, not like this..

Asriel took three quick steps forward and wrapped his arms around his long lost brother, pulling the boy against his robed chest if only to feel the beat of his heart again. The once princeling had become incredibly strong in his transformation and a fraction of that strength could be felt as he squeezed Chara, holding him as though letting go would mean losing him again. In that moment the voice had no power, the picture had been forgotten, and even Asriel's mentor could no longer get through to him. He was with his brother, he was home, and that was all that mattered.

The Pwqa dropped to his knees, pulling Chara with him, and buried his snout against his brother's shoulder as silent tears began to fall from wide, unblinking, silver eyes. How had he felt such rage against Chara of all people? How had _hatred_ ever even entered into his mind? How could he have changed so much that he was so unrecognizable even to himself? All of these questions his mind burned to answer, but only one thing escaped his tightening throat, "I...am so sorry… Chara, please, I never meant...I never meant for this to happen, to say those things, I-I am so sorry…"

Over and over he repeated that simple phrase, all but begging on his knees as one clawed hand tightened around the back of Chara's head and the other held firm across his back. No matter how hard it had tried to drive a wedge between them, Asriel was still managing to do the one thing the voice in his head hadn't wanted him to do. He knew that much, despite understanding so little, despite his seeming inability to speak of it, and he refused to cooperate so long as he had an ounce of strength to rebel with.

Chara clung to him, but still he didn't sob. He wasn't one for shouting his tears, as it were; when he cried, it was silent, accompanied perhaps by hitching gasps. And though it took time, he was eventually able to speak again. "W- We'll never get anywhere if we just keep apologizing," he said, his tone light despite the tears in his voice. "If you'll forgive me, Asriel, I'll forgive you; We're both making mistakes…" He buried his face in the Pwqa's neck, taking a deep breath. Only after several moments of simply clinging to something solid did he draw back. "I missed you, Asriel… I missed you more than words could ever describe."

He wiped at his eyes, smiling a little. "Almost everyone's still at home; Dad's underground, doing something in the Castle… And Frisk left yesterday."

As Chara pulled back, so did Asriel, staring at his brother with as much focus as he could muster through the tears that clouded his eyes and the burning pain in his gut that seemed to gnaw at his very essence. Almost nothing could cut through that anxious, guilty, pain, not even the happiness of seeing Chara smile and holding his brother close again, but hearing that Frisk had left? That didn't just cut through the pain, that made Asriel's entire body go numb from head to toe.

The prince's hands slid to Chara's shoulders and tightened, his eyes becoming little more than black pinpricks in oceans of silver. "Where did she go?", he demanded, more fear than anger evident in his tone, "Chara, I have to find her, something has happened to me and I cannot let it… **we** cannot let it happen to her!"

Chara blinked slowly, his mouth opening to respond when he was cut off by another voice. "She went to find her parents." Chara blinked, eyes turning to face Sans, who stood several feet away, a droplet of sweat on his forehead but otherwise appearing perfectly unaffected by whatever he'd been doing to get there so quickly.

"I heard most've your last arguments. The kid was right; she was wilting. Without a big foe to face, someone to help, or important job to do, without a _purpose_ , she was getting more and more like me; she was starting to stop caring. And, well, one lazy bag of bones is bad enough, y'know? She never talked about her parents often, and when she did it was always brief, negative. So, we suggested she go find 'em, close that chapter of her life once and for all. We're waitin' on Alphys to finish on Chara's phone before he goes after her; she's already about a day, maybe a little more ahead of us."

Asriel's head didn't so much snap up at the sound of a voice he knew all too well as his skin, and the fur atop it, went deathly cold. _'Sans.'_ The name flashed across his mind and his eyes immediately darkened, their color unchanging except for the shadows of absolute, unending, agony that seemed to cast across their surfaces. As quickly as his expression had changed once, though, so it changed again, and he looked up to face Sans with cold silver eyes and an all too defiant stare.

"Then we have to follow her. If you two aren't ready, I can go, I've already seen what it's like and survived, I can do it again if I have to." His tone was finally hopeful again, if only because he had a sense of direction that wasn't directing him to murder his family, and he rose to his feet with Chara somewhere between a crutch and an anchor in the storm that raged in his mind. "If you have anything to say about me, my absence, or what you just heard, save it for when we have her back.", he told the skeleton sternly, "I have my brother, now all that matters is making sure Frisk doesn't go through the same nightmares I did."

Sans shook his head, then spread his arms. "Not my place to comment on it, kid. I told Frisk that it wasn't my place to judge her, way back in the Underground. Nah, I'm just an observer… Impartial, y'could say. My suggestion, though, is to check in with Alphys first. Kid needs what'll be in that phone. Worst-case, you gotta wait a few hours. Frisk's tough- and that's without the strength she'll get when she knows you're alive. The kid'll make it a few more hours, and I doubt she'll be pushin' herself. She'll be keepin' a pretty slow pace, so you'll catch up to her pretty quickly if the two of you push yourselves. Hell… Might even catch her before she makes it to Chara's village."

Chara went pale, but shook his head. "Not likely… This late in the day, if she was keeping any real pace at all, she'd be getting there now."

Sans paused, then nodded. "Fair enough, kid. You know this place better 'n me; you actually walked it. But my point remains; rushing won't do you much good right now, Asriel, and it could hurt Chara. Give it a couple hours, let Alphys finish the phone for him. Then I'll take you as far as I've been, and you can take off."

Asriel grit his teeth. It ground against every bone and fiber of tissue in his body to wait, but he knew that having Chara along….might end up being necessary. If he went off the deep end again, at least he'd be in trusted company instead of alone or with someone like Sans. Maybe, just maybe, he could even find a way to tell Chara what simply wouldn't come out in words, the half-truth and piecemeal answers he'd put together about his own damaged mind.

The Pwqa sighed and looked to Chara before nodding, "Fine. We wait till dusk, that should give her enough time." Never before had Asriel possessed such an authoritative tone, he'd always been a soft, meek, person that would've bent over backwards for anyone, not the leader he was trying to be now. "Do you feel like walking back to town?", he asked his brother, his hand clenching and unclenching almost unconsciously so long as he felt Sans' hollow eyes staring the both of them down. He'd never disliked the skeleton, but, unlike Papyrus, Asriel had never quite found it possible to fully trust Sans. Perhaps it was how he always knew more than he let on, or maybe it was his propensity to keep secrets, but, either way, he couldn't wait for the old bag of bones to leave him and Chara be.

Sans chuckled, shrugging. "That'll work, kid. Y'might even be able to leave earlier, if everything sorts out right. Readin' this stuff's hard work, 'specially without the Lab. I'll see if I can't sneak somethin' in for you two, as well. Wouldn't want you goin' off without havin' any backup, huh?" He chuckled, glancing at Chara. "Careful, kid." Then he took a step back, as if to circle around the tree to his left, and simply… Vanished.

Chara blinked, and if he'd been a cat, his ears would have flickered curiously. "That was… Weird. Sans isn't usually that short. Erm, with us, I mean; he's always been altitude-challenged." Shaking his head, he took a breath, glancing up at Asriel. "You think _you_ can walk? And when did you gain eighty pounds, huh? I'm fourteen! And _you_ aren't much older! I declare this entirely unfair, and formally lodge my protest." He paused, then slowly shifted out from under Asriel's arm, reclaiming his weapons with sharp tugs and tucking them into their scabbards. "I walked the whole way here, Asriel. I can walk back if you can."

The very instant Sans left them behind, using one of his vaunted 'shortcuts', a weight seemed to lift from Asriel's shoulders and the prince let out a long held sigh. No matter their situation, and no matter the trepidation he held towards actually finding Frisk after so long away, Chara's humor and smile find it an easy task to brighten the Pwqa's mood. "I'll have you know," he snorted as Chara retrieved his knives, "that I put on only seventy-three pounds, and I'm much taller than you." It was as indignant a tone as he could muster without fear of slipping back into his earlier mood, but it was far, far, too much and Asriel's poker face broke not but seconds later.

"By the ancestors, Chara..", he sighed, smiling, as his breath returned and he draped an arm over his brother's shoulders, "I missed you so much, you and your easy way with the world." Without even giving a true answer to the question, Asriel simply started walking, always keeping Chara close at hand. He actually had no idea what his physical limits were, the place he'd been training in was, needless to say, more than a little strange. "Let's get back to town. I...I don't look forward to the sudden reunions, but.." He let out a short sigh, the sound cut off by another, tiny, wince. "I...suppose it'll be better than staying away even longer. I don't think I could do that anymore if I wanted to."

"We wouldn't let ya," he assured the Pwqa, smiling a little as they walked. He fell silent after that for several moments, quite unlike Frisk in that while he had a 'laid-back' disposition, he was very much a realist. Frisk might have chatted about how happy everyone would be, how surprised. He didn't, because he knew it was true. When he finally laughed again, it was wry. "I was just thinking," he said, glancing up at the Pwqa, "this is going to be as hard for you as my 'coming back from the dead' was for me. We just keep walking into bad situations, don't we?"

The trip was going to be a pretty decent one; ten, fifteen minutes if they made good time, and almost half an hour if they took their time. "Asriel," he said after several more moments of silence. "You should probably think about this while you have the chance. You're about to show up after years, completely changed. You're about to give Mom and Dad another huge shock, only to leave a few hours later. They deserve to at least know why you're running off so suddenly."

Chara usually had a point, whatever he was talking about, but this time he was far more right than he knew. First off, they really, really, REALLY did just keep walking from one bad situation to another. Secondly, and far more importantly though, Asriel had, quite literally, zero idea how he was going to explain this one. Burning your entire body, scaring your family half to death, nearly dying, traipsing off in the middle of the night without explanation, and then staying away from home and everyone you used to know and love for several years, before just randomly showing up and nearly murdering your beloved sibling was a _**little**_ more serious than getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Just a tiny little bit worse.

Asriel nodded as they walked, his expression having turned more somber. "It won't be easy, I know, but...I'll just tell mom and dad the truth. Alphys knows, Undyne probably does too...Sans knows more than he lets on, as usual, and I'm sure Paps will either hug me right back to the grave or savage me with spaghetti." The very thought brought a smile to the dour looking Pwqa's face. "However it goes down, it'll be fine in the end, I know that much." Asriel looked down at Chara as they walked, his smile growing ever so slightly. "Besides, I'll have you by my side, right? Surely nothing will go wrong."

Chara had made small talk for most of the walk back, unwilling to touch on how the pwqa had jinxed them. He knew he had; he, among everyone, was well-versed in jinxes. It had taken almost twenty minutes to get to town, and even then, it took a surprisingly long time for anyone to take notice of the pair. The first, in fact, was Dogamy and Dogaressa, the pair out on one of their mutual walks. They saw them as the two were making their way through one of the parks in the burgeoning city. And of course, it didn't take terribly long before word was spread that Chara was being accompanied by someone who looked suspiciously like someone from the Royal Family.

It was fortunate, perhaps, that the pair made it to Asgore and Toriel's house without being ambushed by too many people. But of course, there would be the real problem; Asgore stood outside, humming a soft little tune as he tended to the plants beneath the house's windows in the little side garden. His reaction, upon spotting the pair, was as predictable as it was severe; happiness at spotting Chara, and curiosity as to his new friend. Then came realization, and shock. "Tori!" he called out, his voice strained. "Come out here!"

Asriel's first reaction to seeing the home he'd left behind was one of sadness mixed with a longing like he hadn't known since...well, since his battle against Frisk in the Underground. His second reaction, upon seeing his father stand bolt upright and hearing him call for his dear, sweet, mother was to groan and smack a hand over his eyes. "This suddenly got slightly more complicated, didn't it?", he asked of no one in particular.

Toriel, having been reading while yet further refining her baking skills despite being an unbeaten master, looked up with a start and quickly set her book down, hurrying out to find out what could have possibly set her husband off this time. He was always overreacting, to every little thing, but she didn't even have an inkling of what she would see when she padded outside. It was, of course, the sight of Asriel and Chara walking calmly up to the old home's stone path as though all was perfectly fine in the world and _**HER SON HADN'T BEEN GONE AND POSSIBLY DEAD FOR ALMOST TWO YEARS.**_

Had he even an inkling of the abrupt thought, Chara might have brought up that he'd actually been dead for better than ten years, if for no other reason than to ease the tension, but he wasn't a mind reader, as much as he might have hoped. And unlike Frisk, he didn't have the knack for reading people's emotions, for realizing what was coming emotions-wise. So as Toriel padded out of the door, he raised a hand and smiled a little. "So… Look who I found out in the forest? He was staring pretty hard at a flower… I guess he wanted to get back to his roots?"

Toriel huffed a sound that might have been a laugh, had it not been so breathless. "Asriel?" She asked, those eyes of hers wide, taking in all the details of his form, from his height to his new clothing. "I-is that you, Asriel?" Tears were already forming in her eyes.

With guilt, fear, relief, and the desire to run and hug his parents until they couldn't breathe all mixing in his chest, Asriel didn't much air with which to speak. So, instead of waiting for words that would never come, the Pwqa let his hand drift across Chara's shoulder as he broke into a sprint headlong into his aging father. The fun part came two seconds after, when he picked the much larger Pwqa up roughly two inches off the ground and still had the strength to squeeze. After a brief moment of embracing, some would say crushing, his father, Asriel sat him down and rushed over to his mother, grabbing her much the same. He didn't pick her up, but she was the one that he allowed tears to flow to, even if they were completely silent as they spotted her gown. There were no real words to describe the moment, so why bother trying to speak?

It was through tear stained and blurred eyes that Toriel watched her son, a precious gem she'd thought lost to the wilds, sprint at her husband and then at her. It felt like a thousand lifetimes worth of pain, fear, and anxiety had all come crashing back down on her conscious mind, and been lifted away all at the same time. Chara had been brought back, and now Asriel had been returned to them? Toriel didn't even have the mental capacity to speak, let alone marvel at what her son had become, and so she collapsed to one knee as he embraced her. She held onto him and didn't let go, crushing her son in the same relentless hug that seemed to say letting go meant saying goodbye. She was not, _ever_ , going to say goodbye to him again, not if she had any choice in the matter.

Chara stood back, his hands slipping into the pockets of his pants, just in front of his knives' scabbards. He stayed silent; no matter how long they'd been together, Asriel was still their son in a far more tangible way than he ever would be. So rather than rushing forward to join the trio as Asgore followed Asriel to Toriel, wrapping the two of them in his massive embrace, Chara took a little half-step back, leaning lightly against the fencing that surrounded this little garden. There he remained, a little smile on his face, his eyes and expression otherwise unreadable.

The tears fell from all three royals for a solid minute before Toriel finally pulled away enough to look down at her son, never once letting her hands drop from the embrace. Asriel tried so very hard to hide his eyes, to remain buried in the comfort his mother's presence provided, but, when he felt Asgore's powerful arms wrap around him in a bone crushing hug and Toriel shift to look down at him, he could only look up in kind. In a strange, almost alien, way, Asriel was a child again in that moment. Despite his morose appearance and the changes that had come over him, the spark that had always made him who he was had never left him. Seeing that in her son's silver eyes, Toriel could only beam through a small river of tears. Asgore? Well, Asriel's father barely even looked at him, choosing instead to hold onto his not-quite-so-little boy like a child clings to a teddy bear in a storm.

The Dreemurrs shared a conversation both silent and vocal, as stained with quiet sobbing and apologies as it was, for the next few minutes. It was a surprisingly peaceful reunion all things considered, right up until the sound of footsteps in the far distance reached Toriel's ears and she shared a silent look with her husband. The two elders nodded, affirming that this needed to remain private for at least a little while, and rose with their son, all three of them wiping tears from their eyes. Asriel, however, wasn't quite as eager to go inside, the prince looking back as his mother ushered him onward just so he could get a glimpse of Chara and reach out for him. He didn't need to say anything, he just hoped his expression said how much he wanted his brother at his side from that day forward.

As the family retreated into the privacy of their home, Chara smiled back to Asriel, reaching up to tap the Delta Rune on his breast, and through it his heart. As if to say, 'We're family. We'll always be together.' But he didn't follow along; he felt too much the outsider, even if he was officially Asriel's brother. Their argument in the woods whispered in his ear, reminding him that it had been he who had torn the family apart in the first place.

He wasn't looking forward to battling those particular demons.

It was several seconds after they'd gone inside before the footsteps reached his own ears, and more seconds still before their creator came into sight; it was with a jolt of surprise that Chara recognized the yellow-scaled Salamander, the royal scientist Alphys, dressed in her usual lab coat. "A-ah, Chara!" She exclaimed, smiling. "I w-was l-l-looking for you! Undyne said y-you'd come back w-with someone… I guess they- they've left?" She looked around curiously, ignorant of whatever emotions the young- or old- human was feeling, before waddling up to him and presenting him a compact little smart phone. "Here! It's your phone. It's got all its features! Undernet and Internet connections, Dimensional Storage, quantum encryptions, a 3240p high-definition camera, and an uplink to a few weather satellites."

Chara blinked, then took the unassuming rectangle of plastic and metal, raising an eyebrow at her. "All that… in this?"

"Yeah! It's r-really neat, I think. T-the only thing Frisk's has that y-yours doesn't is a c-connection to the Diplomatic Servers. Otherwise, you're a-all set!"

Chara smiled, nodding a little as he tucked the device into his pocket. "Thanks, Alphys," he said, slowly pushing off of the fence. "I'll probably leave in a few hours. There are… Family matters to take care of. But we'll be off after Frisk soon enough."

He chatted for several minutes more with the Salamander, carefully avoiding her catnip, the anime genre in general and Mew Mew Kissy Cutie in particular. Then the two bid each-other farewell, and Chara took a long, deep breath. "Clothes," he said softly. "Clothes are the only thing she can't give me herself…" he glanced at the house, then sighed. "Here we go…" He stepped away from the fence, almost hesitantly at first before his confidence returned. By the time he pulled the door open and slipped inside, it was as though he'd never felt hesitation to go inside at all.

Almost the instant Chara's feet crossed over the threshold of the stately house his ears were met with a loud, ringing, yelp, and then another, deeper, one a moment later. It was an easy bet what that was, and even a cursory glance into the living room would just go to show that Toriel had most certainly not changed. Both Asriel and Asgore were sat on the couch with their hands wrapped around their snouts, the sound of Toriel gently berating Asriel for his disappearing stunt intermixed with an equally gentle tirade at her husband over how he _wasn't_ chastising his son. While some might have seen that as unnecessary or harsh, the smile on Asriel's face, partially covered by his hands as it was, said that getting whacked on the nose with a soup spoon was as much a 'welcome home' as their tear filled embrace had been.

Chara laughed, actually laughed, as he spotted the sight, mirth bubbling up from somewhere inside. Some form of relief, some tension broken that he hadn't even noticed. Or had, and refused to acknowledge. He strode forward, leaning against the doorway of the familiar home, one he had shared with Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk since he'd come back. He listened for several moments; his laughter hadn't been enough to dissuade Toriel from her stern speech, and had likely only reinforced in her mind that they _needed_ a talking to. After a few moments, he took a step back, then turned and slid down the entry hall to the stairs, taking them two at a time as he climbed to the second floor.

His room had started life as a guest room, but over the years since his return, it had taken on a number of personalizations. For one, the dresser boasted a large box positively filled with bars of chocolate, to the point of overflowing. Next to it, a half-empty glass of chocolate milk waited to be taken downstairs; he hadn't finished it before heading out to do his morning exercises, and as usual his plan of returning within a few minutes of finishing had gone straight out the window.

A poster covered the wall over the dresser, an aerial view of the burgeoning city of the Monsters, and next to it was a poster of a heavy metal band, one of his personal favorites. A wooden sword rested against the side of the dresser, too small for him now but still an artifact of his life as a pure human, before he'd eaten fistfuls of buttercups. It was battered and scarred from training, and yet clearly taken very good care of, a fresh layer of clear lacquer ensuring it wouldn't degrade any more than it had since he'd finished with it. Lying at the base of the dresser were a pair of wooden daggers, themselves very beaten and battered with use, but visibly less taken care of; they were only tools, practice weapons that he'd used before he'd gotten his current weapons.

Finally, his bed, the only other piece of furniture in the room. It was neatly made, the creases almost razor-sharp, which meant only one thing; Toriel had been in his room, had her usual meltdown at the state of it, and cleaned everything whilst he'd been gone. It wasn't as though he were a slob… But what, he'd always wondered, was the point of making the bed if you were just going to lay back down in it at the end of the day?

As the minutes passed by and Chara gathered what he would need for the journey ahead, Toriel finally finished her tirade and all but collapsed on her boys with an all too exhausted sigh, the thought of Asriel leaving again not even once entering her mind. It was an extraordinarily pleasant thing to simply sit and enjoy the company of his parents for the first time in what felt like several eternities, but Asriel, all the same, knew that he couldn't rest just yet. He had to keep fighting on for Frisk, he had to make **everything** right before he could allow himself to actually relax.

' _This isn't going to be easy…'_ , he thought to himself. Oh how painfully correct he was.

Things were rather peaceful for several minutes before Asriel extricated himself from between his parents and stood up; the next thing Chara, and likely all of the neighbors, knew was the sound of a very, very, angry Pwqa making her feelings known.

 **"** _ **ASRIEL DREEMURR YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THIS HOUSE AGAIN, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"**_ Toriel's voice didn't even break or crack, but its strength seemed to shake the very stones and timbers of the house. It was suddenly little wonder where Asriel had gotten his fire from, it certainly hadn't been his gentle old father.

The outburst wasn't followed by any further shouting, but the sound of Asgore trying to calm his wife down and Asriel trying very hard to explain, in an expedited manner, his reasons for leaving again were nonetheless matched by flares of magic that made the house creak and groan. It wouldn't be long before it wasn't just the neighbors looking on in wonder, but the guard and their illustrious captain themselves. Toriel was a menace when she was angry and she wasn't about to lose either of her sons again, not after seeing them both healthy, happy, and side by side for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

"But we have to go," Chara said from the stairs, sliding down them slowly. The abrupt silence his comment summoned up would have been stunning under most circumstances. He paused at the door, gazing into the living room with an expression similar to the one he'd once born as he discussed his plan to save the monsters. Calm, accepting, but with a very, very healthy dosage of what had made him Unique. What had ensured he and Frisk had become connected, despite the many years separating their personal times. As he gazed at his family, his eyes were filled with the thing his very visage boasted in amounts bested only by one other. Determination wrapped about Chara like a mantle, a cloak. "Frisk needs to know that Asriel is alive. Mom, Frisk needs Asriel now as much as you do. If… _If_ she were to be badly hurt, even killed… Her Determination might not be strong enough to pull her through."

He motioned towards the kitchen, where a cork-board boasted Frisk's latest school reports. "You know how she's been lately. Asriel wants to find her and help her. Can we really, in good conscience, stop him?"

Toriel's expression when Chara came down the stairs was tantamount to some kind of fire breathing demon that had just been moderately scorned, and the slight singing across Asgore's arms and the couch cushions only attested further to her fury. The moment he opened his mouth her gaze flew to his, her normally beautiful violet eyes tinged with a red glow that defied her often unassailably gentle demeanor. Despite all of the emotion that had welled up in response to the idea of them leaving, however, it took only the mention of Frisk being hurt, let alone dying for good, to all but break the mother Pwqa's spirit. Instantly her eyes shifted fully back to violet, her shoulder slumped, and she leaned heavily against the slightly singed Asgore.

Both Asriel and Asgore took time to embrace her and simply hold on, giving Toriel the chance to run her hands through her firstborn's silken fur one last time. For all she knew this really would be the last time she ever saw her children, any of them, again, or it might be the last time she would have to say goodbye. Either way, as Asriel turned to join Chara in the hallway, Toriel stepped forward and scooped both boys up in her arms, squeezing them tightly enough that Asriel actually squeaked a little as the air rushed out of his lungs.

"Both of you had better come back, with Frisk between you.", she told them, her voice soft, "I will not lose any of you, let alone all of you, again; there is nothing more precious to me in this world, or any other, than my children.." It took all of her strength to simply not cry over them again, but Toriel managed to hold on and steal a kiss off of both Asriel's and Chara's cheeks before she finally let go and stood up, Asgore wrapping an arm around her back. The old king, at least, seemed to understand, but his expression said that he felt much the same as Toriel did, even if he had already accepted how right Chara was.

Once released, Asriel then turned, putting a hand gently, almost hesitantly, on Chara's shoulder. His expression was soft and somber, if now a little more hopeful and relaxed, but he still wasn't quite sure if he'd earned enough credit back with Chara to even touch the boy, let alone hold his hand like he had in their youth. "So...are you ready? I can't imagine this is going to get any easier the longer we wait, and I thought I heard Alphys' voice earlier, yeah?"

Chara nodded, patting his pocket. "Sharp ears, bro," he said softly, though his eyes never left Toriel's. "I promise," he said again, every bit of his formidable Determination on display with every word, "That when we return, it will be together, all three of us. And we _will_ return. After all, Asriel has to earn the crown, and I have to deserve everyone's forgiveness. Can't do that if I'm gone again, right?" He smiled, then stepped forward and hugged the two adult Pwqa again, as tight as his slight form could. "We'll be back, mom, dad. And we'll bring Frisk with us."

Then, with a soft intake of breath, he turned and strode purposefully out of the house, his hands clenched into fists. He didn't look back; he didn't want them to see his sadness. That he was the reason that Asriel was leaving so soon after his return was a fact that burned in his gut. But he had a destination, he had a purpose. "I've got everything I'll need for a month," he said once they were a little ways from the house, speaking to his brother. "For two of us, I'd say-" he paused, eying Asriel's form. "I'd say a week and a half. Y'tall jerk. Now, how about you explain to me why it's so critical that we run off after Frisk?"

Asriel followed almost perfectly in Chara's footsteps, embracing his parents one more time before quickly turning heel and following his brother out of the house. The sooner they were gone, they easier it would be to leave, and the sooner they would get back. Using that logic as incentive, Asriel caught up to Chara and walked side by side with him, taking a measure of comfort in the other boy's presence that he hadn't taken in far too long.

"Tall?", he snorted, half laughing, "Look who's talking, short stuff." The Pwqa grinned down at his brother. "You've grown quite a bit, last I remember was mom saying you were 'Cute as a button.'" He could barely hide the mirth in his voice, most of which stemmed from simply being able to talk to Chara again, let alone joke with him, but the seriousness returned all too quickly when the subject was changed. It wasn't something he enjoyed talking about, it wasn't even something he was sure he **could** talk about, but he was more than willing to try for Frisk's sake.

"I...I'll be honest, it's..hard to say anything. It's kinda like something keep me from talking about…" He trailed off, searching for a term to replace the words he couldn't speak, and his search was ended with a groan. "This is going to be _way_ harder than I expected..", he sighed, "I guess I'll start at the beginning then, right after I left town…"

Elsewhere, blood dripped from cold fingertips…

* * *

 _ **A/N Afterword**_ _ **, Cookie: *insert malevolent cackling here.***_

 _ **Whisperfen: You're horrible.**_

 _ **Cookie: Yes. Yes I am. AND HELLO EVERYONE HOW WAS THAT LITTLE TRIP?!**_

 _ **Whisperfen: Thanks, Cookie, now I have a headache. Also, yes, hi. We're alive, believe it or not, and I hope all of you are still alive too. No thanks to us.**_

 _ **Cookie: We haven't exactly been kind to you guys thus far, have we? I mean, sure, we've got cutes and cuddlies and such, but way more of this has been kind've… Roller-coaster-y, hasn't it?**_

 _ **Whisperfen: Personally, I'd say that's most of the point of this insane story. Still, hopefully you don't hate us too much for that little cliffhanger, I'll let you guess which of us wrote which part.**_

 _ **Cookie: I'm innocent, I swear! Insofar as I have not actually killed anyone yet. I totally wrote that, though. Totally. I'm taking all credit for that.**_

 _ **Whisperfen: You horrible bastard. I WROTE IT, I DID THE HORRIBLE THING. Really, though, I hope you enjoyed all the same. We'll be co-writing from this point forward until, and if, things change. Hopefully we'll be able to get something approximating this length out each time, even if it's not quite as insanely long.**_

 _ **Cookie: Seriously, we pounded this thing out in something akin to, what, ten hours? When we finally had the time to get together and write?**_

 _ **Whisperfen: Try more like not quite eight. We're a machine when we write together.**_

 _ **Cookie: So, does that mean we can now start doing daily updates?!**_

 _ **Whisperfen: Remember Chara versus Sans, Cookie? Remember that? Or maybe Undyne the Undying? That will be you and me if you try.**_

 _ **Cookie: Aww…. Well, I tried, guys! You saw it! THE PROOF IS IN THE… Erm. Afterword. That's rather less delicious-sounding than pudding.**_

 _ **Whisperfen: Afterword-pudding. Pudding after words. Fuck it, I'm gonna go have pudding.**_

 _ **Cookie: I'm gonna see if Toriel has any Pie left in the fridge. We've all heard about the Annoying Dog and who and what he is; I'll become the Annoying Cookie. Just a random cookie mon- Nope, copyrighted. Damn.**_

 _ **Whisperfen: I...yeah I have no idea where this, that, or the other things are going. Thanks again for reading, folks, I know we both hope you don't hate us too much and can continue to enjoy the adventure of our mad little trio!**_

 _ **Cookie: For those of you coming back the moment you got the email announcing our update, I am sincerely sorry for the long delay- it's entirely on my head how long this has taken. It's through the cooperation of FennyWhisper here that I've actually gotten something out of considerable length and reasonable quality. And most of the quality was him; I just sort've threw up words. Hopefully, you guys can forgive me that, and continue to read. I'm not sure what our update schedule will be moving forward; both myself and Fen are busy a significant percentage of the week, and our schedules don't always leave a lot of room for cooperative writing.**_

 _ **Whisperfen: He's just a flatterer, I actually only wrote a small bit of it. That said, we'll certainly try our best to get good stuff out to you on a semi-regular basis, just pardon us if there are slight delays here or there. Shouldn't be any more long delays, just long updates.**_

 _ **Cookie: If all goes well, anyway. We'll do our best to keep you all up-to-date with our work, and if all goes well, we might settle back into a weekly update scheme, just with more content. I'm personally leaning towards an update every other week, of about this length, but there's no telling what we'll actually settle on until we've given it a try for a couple update cycles.**_

 _ **Whisperfen: Whatever we settle on, though, you can be assured we'll keep the story rolling one way or another. This is all fairly near and dear to both our withered, blackened, old hearts, so it's not going anywhere anytime soon.**_

 _ **Cookie: Except forward; that's the only direction we CAN go! Stagnation won't happen. And who're you calling old?**_

 _ **Whisperfen: You, you old cookie.**_

 _ **Cookie: I'M NOT STALE!**_

 _ **Whisperfen: That's all folks! Stay tuned till next time, I've gotta go get this stale old cookie refreshed in the oven. Mmmm, chocolate chips~**_

 _ **Cookie: NO! Not the oven again D: Take care, everyone, and we'll see you in the next chapter~ And as always, everyone, Stay Determined! Bye for now!**_


	11. Chapter 10: Reunion

( **Author's Note, Cookie:** Long story short, me and Whisper's lives decided to hoist a huge, wooden "Nope" and smack us with it until we cried, which consisted mostly of work, but also of me stabbing myself and required a few stitches. That was fun.. I think Whisper actually broke for a little while, the poor fluff. So, yeah… Sorry for the super lateness. I know we promised we wouldn't have any more long breaks, but our lives seem intent on making us break our words. That being said, I have hope for… Perhaps the next update, or the one after. Life should sort out for Whisper around then, and everyone's favorite Cookie will always find time to write, even if it's really, really inadvisable to do so. Like as I'm writing this, I need to sleep so I can wake up in six hours. Telling you, I just can't resist. So until we get things all sorted out, we both apologize vehemently. And in the meantime, here's Emergence: Chapter Ten!)

" _Eight years, woman! Eight years I've put up with that leech, sucking out every last penny and every last bit of our free time! Eight years, and for what? So she can run away every time she sees me? So you can defend her, claim it's_ my _fault she hates me?!"_

" _Jackson, she's_ eight _! And you're always screaming and yelling! Of_ course _she runs from you!"_

" _She runs from you, too, woman, and you damned well know it. The little bitch is always running away! She hasn't got a single brave bone in her fucking body!"_

" _I- It's because-" A meaty thud interrupted the words, accompanied by the thud of something heavy hitting the wall._

" _Don't you fucking make excuses for her. If she doesn't want us as parents- Fine."_

" _Where are you going? Jackson!?"_

" _To get a damned drink!"_

 _A door slammed, echoing through the apartment…_

 _She huddled in a corner, a dark corner in a part of the apartment the other two didn't know she could reach. It was a little crawl space, accessed by a trap door in the floor in her closet. Filled mostly with piping and wires, it was cool, a little damp, and smelled of mildew, but that was okay. They couldn't find her here; too often one of them had torn apart the apartment above, never seeming to notice that the trapdoor was just barely open._

 _Then again, they were usually drunk, too._

 _She listened as furniture was overturned, the shatter of her bedside lamp as it struck the floor. The closet door banging against the wall as it was thrown open, then unsteady, stomping footsteps out of the room. She hoped he hadn't broken the overhead light again, too; she knew from experience he'd take months to fix it, leaving her in darkness for most of that time; her bedroom window was blocked by something outside._

 _She listened to the screaming and shouting, the thuds of someone falling or being shoved against a wall. She wanted to stay down here, to stay in the darkness and the cold damp forever. Away from the shouting, the fists, the eyes…_

 _She woke slowly. Pain lashed every part of her body, from her her left foot to her chest, all over her back. Places where people wouldn't look. Places that would stay covered, not because she was shy, but because the blacks and blues and purples of bruises stood out so vividly against her pale skin._

 _She hadn't run away fast enough._

 _She crawled out of her bed; it was a weekend, there wouldn't be school of any kind for at least another day. Or maybe less? She'd lost track of time- she always did when he hit her head that many times._

* * *

 _The world was on fire, and he was the reason._

 _Well, perhaps not him, specifically; after all, he hadn't been the one to initiate this, hadn't been the one to start this violence. But as he stood at the summit of the mountain, gazing down on the glow of fire that covered near the entirety of the base, he couldn't deny that he was the cause of everything he saw right now. All the violence being committed down there at this very moment was because of his order, an order forced by circumstances, but his none the less._

We shouldn't have continued this, _a soft voice whispered in his ear, his ever-present companion. The wraith of the child who had fallen before him, the ghost of the child that had balanced his violent impulses._ We should have asked for peace.

" _As though they would have accepted any terms we offered save slavery," he spat, anger bubbling to the surface of his otherwise-neutral expression._

They might have, _the voice pushed._ They've tried to take us over and failed already. They have to know our technology is more advanced than theirs. They can't break our lines. They might have accepted peace…

" _For a time, until they could maneuver more and more people into place. Until they could get enough in one spot to break through and shatter us. Then they would declare war upon us once again." He shook his head, growling softly. His voice was silent; perhaps they realized that he was right. Or perhaps it was because someone else was coming up the incline towards him, and they didn't want them to think he was going mad._

 _He wasn't, for the record._

" _My lord," Undyne said as she closed, dropping to one knee and inclining her head. "The Humans are retreating towards their lines. We believe they are preparing for another of their long-range attacks, but our scouts cannot find them. We may need to delay-"_

" _No," he snapped, interrupting the Guardswoman. She looked up, that one eye finding his own, before dropping. Past the sweater he wore, the black collar of a button-down shirt rising from the sweater's collar. Past the shorts he wore, black, to where his hand rested, holding something golden and glittering. "We'll begin our push. If our scouts find them, then we'll prioritize their destruction. But we will break out of this siege… We will go on the offensive."_

 _The Guardswoman was silent for a long moment, then nodded, bowing her head. "We'll begin the attack at once, my liege," she said, pushing herself to her feet and backing several feet away before turning to make her way down the mountain, quickly vanishing into the woods._

 _A chill wind kicked up, catching at the heavy red cloak he wore, trying to pull it from his body._ This is a mistake, _the voice murmured sadly._ Many will die…

" _It is my mistake to make, not yours," he growled, his sharp tone cutting off any further debate._

Chara…

" _It is my mistake, Frisk. You had your chance… It's my turn." He lifted the crown onto his head, settling it in place before beginning his own descent. "I'll make them pay for killing Mother and Father."_

* * *

Chara sat upright with a strangled yelp, his heart thudding in his chest. Wide scarlet eyes flicked around, searching for something, anything to tell him that the dream had only been that… A dream. When his gaze fell on his brother's furred shoulder, he found it, and slowly his heart began to slow.

Walking as far and as determinedly as they had, even Asriel, even with Chara at his side, couldn't go forever. By the time they finally stopped, Asriel helped make a tiny camp, and then he was out the second his head hit the ground. Thankfully, and surprisingly enough, Asriel's sleep was a dreamless one the first night they slept beside one another. It was not, however, entirely peaceful; lights, of various colors, danced across Asriel's slumbering vision, lights that seemed to call out to his sleeping mind with voices ranging from desperate, to angry, to sympathetic. All of them spoke in unison, a chaotic cacophony of shouting, hissing whispers, and whining that wanted so dearly to wake him from his sleep, yet none of them seemed able to delve quite deep enough to pierce through the shield that rested around Asriel's mind. A shield though it may have been, it was not of red nor violet, but a sickly, twisted, black that swirled and circled around the Pwqa's memories.

It wasn't going to let them wake the princeling up. It wasn't going to let them corrupt him, not again. It wasn't going to fail him, not like last time, and it most certainly wasn't going to let the corrosive rainbow of colors wipe away all of its hard, hard, work.

Despite the conviction of the voice, all of its spit and bile and venom, it was not so strong as it so ardently believed. It was while the voice was whispering to itself, tiny hisses escaping Asriel's lips as he slept, that the colors seemed to unite. Normally chaotic, disorganized, and tantamount to a rabble, the colors banded together in the shadow of the black mass, its encompassing veil pierced only by a single, dim, crimson light. It was the crimson light that collected them, the crimson light that stood above the rest, and the crimson light that dared to stand up to the shadow, its light far too much for any other color to overpower. Even the silvery white that rested within the shadow, trapped by its jealous hands, could not glow brightly enough to escape the crimson firestorm that threatened to consume the shadow, even as the inky mass grew ever larger and more menacing in response.

It was as Asriel slept, his hisses and the clicks of his tongue having turned to tiny whimpers and groans as the silent war waged behind his eyes, that the crimson light seemed finally matched by the shadow's intensity, its bearing so great as to eclipse even a great red sun. The other colors seemed hesitant, almost afraid, to act as they watched their leader become stonewalled, but they had no more time to think and consider.

Asriel's eyes snapped open at the gentle touch to his shoulder, his gaze focused on the impenetrably inky horizon of the far distance. It was nearly half a minute before his memories settled enough that he remembered where he was, and who had just placed a hand on his arm. Slowly, carefully, Asriel twisted and rolled over towards his brother, his eyes closing as a silent grimace found its way across his features. The Pwqa thanked his ancestors that the darkness could hide such things, he didn't want to worry Chara, not when he had no memory of why his eyes felt as though seared by fire.

"Chara…", the prince mumbled groggily, slipping an arm around his brother as though to keep him safely entwined against the night's cold air, "Mmnh..go back...to sleep.."

"Sorry," Chara said, his tone shaky. "Just… Wanted to make sure you were real…" He took a shuddering breath, retreating back to his own sleeping bag. He lay for several seconds before speaking again, staring up at the top of their tent. "There was a time when I would have shrugged you aside," he murmured. "When I first awakened inside Frisk, that very first time… I felt… Dark. Hollowed out, emptied of every emotion."

He was silent for awhile, not sure whether the Pwqa had fallen asleep or still lay awake. "The first thing that happened after I woke up… Was I was attacked. By a freaking flower, of all things. One of _my_ flowers… The flowers that had never been Underground before. The ones I'd wanted to see when I died. And suddenly, I wasn't hollow. I was… Angry. Angry at everything, angry at whatever had taken even those flowers from me. I clung to that anger, used it as fuel. It didn't matter that the people I was hurting were former friends, family… I was just so angry."

He smiled wryly. "Then, y'know… Sans. I've never faced anyone that strong, Asriel, not until Frisk, and even she doesn't quite get it. He's… He's so strong. I fought him again and again, but I kept making mistakes. Sometimes new ones… Usually not. Slipping up, mistaking a cycle. The more I fought, the more I died, the less angry I felt. The more I felt hollowed out again. Then, one time… He offered mercy, like he had so many other times, and my- the body I was using just moved. On its own. He killed me, and I thought I hit the reset... But suddenly, I was watching from a distance… Watching as another person used that body. As they smiled even when the flower almost killed them. As they tucked their hands into a monster's and followed them to safety."

"Frisk taught me that good existed in everyone, she worked so hard to save everyone… And then you ran away. And I was so angry again. Then- Then I got my own body. And I tried to kill her. I _did,_ twice. But she didn't seem phased by the fact that she'd died. And I couldn't get control of the timeline. Heh… So much for my Determination, I broke down after she came back twice. Then she… Did something. And almost killed herself doing it, but she wouldn't let me get hurt by it. I could have killed her then, but… I was stunned. Why hadn't she killed me?"

"Then Sans showed up, and he almost killed me. Would have killed me, if she hadn't stopped him. Asriel, I killed her twice, but she didn't want me hurt when someone with the power to kill me showed up."

He paused, taking a long, deep breath. "The dreams started a few weeks after that. Nightmares, really… Sometimes, I was old, cold, and filled with… Darkness, I guess. And I was killing and hurting and laughing. And then, sometimes, I was my old self, the one from before Frisk, and I was up here, I had broken out and I was just… Killing. Then others, where we left, you and me. We leave, for whatever reason, and we reach my village, and-"

He choked off, his hands knotting into his sleeping bag. "And they capture us. They make me watch while they turn you to dust, a little at a time… And then I just snap, and- And I just-" He drew in a choked breath, then shook his head. " But the worst… The worst are the ones where… where I grow up, we grow up, and then the Humans… The Humans kill you. You, Mom, Dad… They try to kill me. And suddenly, I'm king, a king atop a pile of dust, and- I don't want to be a king if it means you and Mom and Dad have to die, Asriel! I- I just got you all back, I just started to _deserve_ to have a family, I don't want to lose you all again! I don't want to lose everything again!"

At first it was quite simple for Asriel to consider falling back asleep, and his mind was already drifting away as Chara began to recount his story. It was a tale worth hearing, a sad one deserving of a gentle hand and open shoulder, but Asriel was so, very, tired after his own ordeals...how could he have possibly taken on someone else's burden too, even for the five minutes it would take?

' **You have no time for this, Asriel. Let him be. Sleeeeep, rest, be strong.'** The voice was convincing, his heart slowing as his muscles and bones seemed to respond to its call. It was mere moments before he was out again, dead to the world and Chara all the same.

What transpired in Asriel's mind while he slumbered and his brother's story took one dark turn after another, falling down that endless rabbit hole of anger and loss, was not all that dissimilar from the very story he should've been listening to. Instead of losing his family or being proven unworthy, Asriel's dreams were far less focused on such things than they had once been. Either his simple confidence was the reason for the switch, as he believed, or it was more that he had been corrupted and twisted over time, which was hard to tell; either way, Asriel's dreams did not center around his parents and his old friend, but around himself. Himself, and Frisk.

It was a time different from their own, that much he could tell as easily as tasting a sour edge on the wind, but he could sense similarities just the same. He could tell that his mind's eye was somewhere familiar, but so much was...wrong. It was a house, a smaller floor plan than his parent's house but a good sized one besides. To his left, what looked like a living room, to his right, a kitchen, and ahead of him was a banistered staircase. Normally it would've been a cozy sight, but...everything was wrong. He didn't even know why it all looked familiar, but he knew that it did; he also knew that the wallpaper shouldn't have been torn, the floorboards shouldn't have been cracked, the sofa and chairs shouldn't have been covered in blood and grime.

Even as unsure of why he felt strangely at home in the setting, Asriel was nonetheless disgusted at all that he saw. Disgusted, horrified, nauseated, all of these words were understatements, but he knew that he had to press on. He knew, because he was conscious, and because he also knew that he couldn't see the rest of his body, he knew that he was lucid dreaming. He'd heard of such things, Sans had told him and it'd helped to take his mind off the pain of his injuries, but he hadn't had a lucid dream since before he left the village. Regardless, he knew what he had to do.

Pushing himself past the grime of the entrance and the, apparently, old horror show in the living room, Asriel willed himself towards the staircase. It wasn't easy, each step was like walking through the thickest of mud, but he made it, as unpleasant as it was. He did not climb, however. It wasn't out of trepidation or because of the scene in the living room, but, rather, because he could feel something to his right. It was like a cold breeze that brought with it the smell of blood, death, and a feeling of dread he had not felt in what seemed a lifetime. With all of his body and soul he didn't want to look, but Asriel knew he had to. With an invisible hand on the stairway's banister he turned his head, slowly, to look into the room.

Asriel screamed his dream self's throat bloody and raw.

Though it might've seemed that it was Chara's tear filled voice, choking tone, and quivering hands that made Asriel sit up suddenly, it was actually the screaming that still echoed inside his mind. The Pwqa sat bolt upright and curled up around his brother's half sitting form, an arm wrapping behind his back as his other supported his own weight. He made no noise, even as tears streamed from his eyes and into Chara's shirt, but his actions did not suit the terror and anguish he felt inside.

"Chara...I'm sorry, so sorry, that you've...that you've had to go through so much..", he whispered against his brother's chest, "I really am.. But you're not going to lose any of us again…"

Asriel's trailing voice was followed by the area around them becoming lit by a soft glow, one that emanated from behind Chara. It was incredibly gentle, beautiful, and bright amber. Appropriate since it flickered like a mono-colored flame.

"You will **never**...lose **me**...again.. I promise.." And as quickly as it had come, as eerie as it had been, the soundless glow was gone, and so was the gentle warmth against Chara's back. All that remained was the surrounding darkness, Asriel's almost childishly sincere promise, and the much more normal warmth of Asriel's not-quite-shaking hand on his brother's back. Nothing, not even the voice in his head, was going to take his brother from him again.

* * *

Blood ran, hot against the chill of her bare skin. She felt it running across her palm, along her wrist, down from her shoulder. She felt the heat of pain from the wound, but the actual pain was distant from her mind, as distant as the chill that was creeping through her bones. In fact, everything physical was distant from her mind; she was barely conscious, pain having long ago dragged her into the depths.

She floated in a cloud; that was the best way she could explain it. The pain was a distant thing, the all-encompassing cold a distant thought that never really made an impression. All was gray, her eardrums strangely hot and filled with static. She'd died before, she knew what that felt like… And this didn't feel like that. NO, this was a slower thing, not death but torment.

 _Fitting,_ she thought vaguely. Why, she wondered immediately, was it fitting? She reached for the thought, but it dispersed like a cloud as her fingers touched it. No point in trying, then, if trying only gained her an empty hand and frustration. After all, only the insane did the same thing time after time and expected different results.

A face materialized before her, drifting in the void that her mind inhabited. She couldn't place it, but it seemed familiar. Its lips moved, and the static in her ears almost resolved into words. _I can't hear you_ , she wanted to say, _I can't understand._ But though her lips moved, no sound came out; she had not the strength to speak. The face faded, her surroundings shifting.

She stood at the top of a set of stairs, in a short hallway with three doors, one at each end and one opposite the stairs. Everything was so old, she thought with something akin to a giggle. It was as if she were home again; nothing whatsoever was new. But that was wrong; everything about this place was new, and strange.

And unsettling.

She stepped forward, her hand reaching for the door closest to her, the door opposite the stairs. She didn't even touch the handle; it creaked open of its own accord…

The gunshot came out of nowhere, shattering the stillness of the afternoon like a brick through spun sugar; almost simultaneously, her right shoulder exploded into scarlet agony, flinging her to the ground. She didn't scream, though her mouth opened; she could only wheeze a breath out, eyes wide and staring up into the sky. The pain was immense; she had never felt any single pain like it. And yet, she knew it hadn't been a solid hit; she still had her arm, she could feel the fingers. A rifle round hitting someone her size… She wouldn't have had an arm if it had struck square on her shoulder.

She must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing she knew, there was a gun barrel between her eyes. She stared past it, up at the man holding it. He wasn't looking at her; he was looking over his shoulder, talking.

"...The one who brought 'em up!"

"The dear just made a mistake! You can't execute her for that!"

"You saw the boy! When those idiots in the government signed those last few bills on TV, _He_ was with her! They had the same last name!"

"That doesn't mean anything! They both have a monster's surname, how do you know they're actually related?!"

Deafening silence. Dark gray eyes in a grizzled, bearded face turned towards her butterscotch ones, wide with fear.

"We'll take 'er back, then. Let the elders take care of 'er. If she's related to one of _them_ , we have to kill her. We've been without 'em for too long to suffer their curse again."

She tried to say something as the barrel was shifted away, but she didn't get the chance. A hard-toed boot struck the side of her head, a third person from out of sight, and she was gone…

The door creaked open, revealing a plain bathroom. Very little occupied the sink, enough products to suggest a girl living there, enough for bare-minimum make-up use. A large bath, and as odd as it seemed to her, a large shower opposite it. Pain throbbed, a heat in the cold, but she ignored it. She wanted to venture forward, she wanted to find out why everything felt so unsettlingly familiar.

Then someone screamed, a sound so full of horror her heart stopped.

Finally, the pain faded…

* * *

Chara had clung to Asriel for who knew how long, not quite sobbing but not exactly emotionless, either. It took entirely too long for sleep to claim him, and by the time it did, he'd felt utterly drained. However, he also felt relieved, as though he'd scraped the nasty gunk off the inside of his soul and finally felt somewhat clean again. He knew he'd continue to regret everything, everything he'd done and said and been in his own control, but a part of him had realized that that had been the past; that even though he still had the ability, and indeed much of the power, to be that person, it came down to his choice now. And he could choose to be someone else.

When he awoke again, it was daylight, though he wasn't sure exactly what time it was. A glance at his phone solved that; three minutes past nine in the morning. Groaning, the boy sat up, looking around blearily for several moments. Then he brought up his phone's inventory, opening the dimensional window that was his storage and reaching in, pulling out the box filled to overflowing with chocolate bars from his room.

What else would Chara reach for first thing in the morning, breakfast?

Slowly unwrapping one of the bars, he took a bite out of the chocolate and chewed slowly, his scarlet eyes unfocused. It was only when he was halfway through the bar, an extra-large one at that, that he thought that, perhaps, he should try waking Asriel up...

* * *

"Asriel!" She gasped as she sat upright, a screaming agony tearing apart her right arm. She ignored it, just as she ignored her state of near-undress, the blood that had pooled underneath the bare metal cot she'd been laid upon, and the bars that blocked off one entire wall of the room. None of it mattered; in that second, for those few heartbeats, the scream that could only have been Asriel echoed in her head.

It was like the moment that she was fighting Chara, but magnified. Then, it had been her mind imagining Asriel, imagining everything but that he was alive. It had crystallized things for just that moment, froze all her scattered feelings in place.

This moment was like that, but so much more that it was nothing of the sort. That scream had frozen all her scattered feelings and emotions, alright, but where the figment of her imagination had merely held them, allowing her to draw her focus into one point, this was… Different. She knew, without knowing how, that it had been real. Asriel had really screamed like that. And though she didn't know why, she knew very well that it meant he still lived. He was alive, and he wasn't lost.

And while a belief that he was still alive had held her thoughts and feelings in place, the _knowledge_ that he was still alive was enough to draw her thoughts together. She had to survive. She had to get out of here, get her phone, and find her parents. She had to settle things with them. And then she had to find Asriel. Take him for a walk through the Underground.

It was only then that she turned her gaze to her ruined shoulder, and for just a moment, nausea threatened to overcome her. The muscle of her arm had been torn apart, the white of bone still visible, pink through the blood. It was just beneath where she knew the joint was; too close for comfort.

Asriel was alive, and she needed to find him.

Determination anchored her thoughts, and Determination became a heat in her stomach. Closing her eyes, she drew on that heat, siphoning it, guiding it just like Toriel had taught her. Pain vanished, but it was merely an absence of feeling, step one. Next came the difficult, the draining part. Guiding tissue back where it belonged, replacing tissue with energy turned solid, killing germs and microbes that might cause infection. Kicking energy into the marrow to promote blood production, smoothing down the rough edges of meeting skin.

It took her almost an hour; the blood that formed a scarlet sleeve on her right arm had dried into a nasty, gel-like slime, but she did it. When her eyes opened again, it was to see whole skin, marred only by a messy, but seemingly years-old scar.

Everyone had told her healing magic suited her. _I guess they were right,_ she thought, the first thought she'd managed to form fast enough to be considered a cohesive thought in an hour. Then she turned her gaze on the bars, the tiny door one had to crawl out of. No, thank you.

As it turned out, creating enough fire to blow out a wall without hurting one's self was an incredibly difficult thing to do. She was thankful she'd thrown up a barrier of green energy to protect herself, else she might have been hit by all of that flame. "Subtle?" She asked the aether, stepping through the smoke and rubble and out into mid-day daylight. "No. But I gave up on subtle when they shot me."

She turned as motion twitched in her periphery, an array of four sapphire spears forming around her and launching themselves forward. _Arms, legs, nothing vital, don't hit the-_ "Chara?!" She exclaimed, the spears exploding into mist that added a shine to the young man's clothes. He only had times to recognize her and begin to lower his weapons before she was on him, pinching those pink cheeks of his and tugging on them. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be two days behind me at the earliest, and I know I wasn't unconscious that long or I'd have bled out! And-"

It was likely at that exact moment that she realized it was not just the two of them on that roadway. Her eyes found the tall, oddly-familiar Pwqa, and for a second, she was wary. "And who's your f-" That was as far as she got. As far as her mouth carried her words before the strange similarities clicked. She fell silent, staring wordlessly at Asriel Dreemurr.

 _Guess I won't need to worry about finding him,_ a calm part of her brain reasoned, ever practical and at ease.

 _Guess he's just going to stand there and stare at me in my underwear,_ said the far more hysterical, blood-deprived part of her brain. Such a helpful part of her brain, that; it even threw up a side-by-side comparison of her the last time she'd been around Asriel and today. One, a lithe little girl with warm eyes and a bright smile, unmarred by more than a tiny handful of scars.

The other, a young adult, still growing with each passing day, but whose curves are beginning to hint at the beauty she would become. One arm gloved in drying blood, some of which was now, of course, smeared on Chara's cheek. Her body fit, toned by years of training with Undyne, sporting a new, and rather nasty-looking, scar on her right shoulder, with dark bags under her eyes, and pale skin underneath a decent little tan. Blood smeared across her stomach and right side, her right cheek swiped as though her cheek had brushed through a small puddle of blood, and stained the sports bra and panties she wore from their natural gray color to a splotchy, uncomfortable-looking black.

"Oh," she said, as her brain finally kicked in again, that panicky part of her brain screaming for her to hide, to dive behind something. The calm part of her brain wondered if she had enough blood left in her right now to actually blush the way she felt like she was, or if that was just a feeling she had from her general lack of blood, and her face actually looked normal.

* * *

For the first tenth of a second after Asriel realized that there were **spears** pointed at him and Chara, and not just any spears either, the Pwqa had no real conception of time, nor space, nor even his own heartbeat. There were two people alive that could make spears like that, and one of them he knew they'd left behind in Monster Town. The Prince's lungs ached as he forced his eyes to focus past the dissipating spears, his mouth hanging ever so slightly open at the sight of Frisk so….so badly injured. She looked worn, haggard, and it was clear she needed more than simple assistance, but she was also...beautiful.

Asriel grimaced as firmly as his heart beat hard, his feet carrying him forward towards Frisk without more than that single second's worth of hesitation, her eyes following him as he moved closer and closer. It was as though his mind was lost in a fog while his body worked on automatic, moving with deft grace and gentle strength to scoop Frisk off her feet, always careful of her bloodied arm, and carry her to the nearest patch of grass, despite a half-hearted squeak from the girl. He knew Chara was there, or, at least, some part of him did, but he didn't seem to care. Chara could take care of himself easily enough, and clearly Frisk was running from something or someone, but that didn't faze Asriel even as the distant sounds of shouting and running reached his ears. All that mattered was the girl in front of him, nothing, and no one, else.

Never having realized how much Frisk meant to him before seeing her, in his estimation, half dead, Asriel's eyes were filled with tears even as he brushed grime and dirt off her face with one hand and the other drifted over her blood matted arm with a gentle, red-violet, glow. He'd never been great at healing magic, that'd always been his Mother's forte and Frisk's specialty, but he knew enough to help her, and he wasn't moving until she didn't look so deathly pale. In fact, thanks to his lack of experience, Asriel was very lucky to even have breath in his lungs, the magic his left hand wove drawing untold amounts of vitality from his young, essentially immortal, body. Yet, even as his silver eyes dimmed and his face became gaunt, he didn't stop pushing his life into Frisk, willing her to cease her all too intimate dance with the Reaper.

She'd saved him, he couldn't very well leave her to fade and die now, now could he?

By the time his hand was on her arm, Frisk had actually summoned up enough blood to turn scarlet, staring up into those silver moons he called eyes. Where and how, she had no idea, but it felt as though every drop of blood her body could spare was caught in her cheeks, heating them to solar temperatures…

It took her entirely too long to realize he was using magic on her. Perhaps it was that her blood had felt it had better places to be than in her brain, or perhaps it was simply that her mind had only gotten a single cylinder firing since her complete breakdown at seeing Asriel, but either way, it took minutes of staring into those eyes trying to formulate full words and sentences that she noticed the dimness of his eyes, and the strength that was slowly flowing into her body.

When she recognized it, however, her left hand came up to grasp his wrist, gently but firmly pushing it away. "Save your energy," she said slowly, forcing herself to re-learn English. She smiled, a wry smile touched with a hint of real happiness. "We can't both be drained right now… Besides, you need so much to _be._ I won't be happy if you get all dusty just to keep me alive."

It really was amazing, she would reflect years later, how the mind filtered things out when something important was in their sight. It wasn't until that moment that she heard the clatter of steel on steel. A gunshot was all it took to shatter even that marginal peace; even before the echoes were gone, she was on her feet, moving with a fluid grace that was both like and unlike the grace she'd had before Asriel had left. Like it, in that it was instinctual, the motions that had drawn her from Asriel's embrace to her feet quickly and casually precise. Unlike, in that it was so much faster than anything he could have seen from her in the past, so much more strength behind the motions.

She was moving before her mind had finished its snapshot-capture of the scene; Chara, his back to them, daggers drawn and raised. Four men with swords, three women with spears, and in the back, two men with rifles, one of them uncomfortably familiar to her. A spear formed in her hand, and more formed around her… But not just three or four. Eight spears, each a scarlet as bright as her Determination was strong.

Someone was feeling Frisky again.

* * *

" _Watch the humans, their speed is deceptive."_ , a voice hissed in the bone chilling air. Its words did not fall upon all ears, however. Only those most receptive, the weak willed and angry, the afraid and tormented, heard its serpentine tone. " _The large one is powerful, but young. Only cripple him. Or else."_ The words fell across cold winds and the nine men and women barely nodded in silent response.

' _Good.'_ , the voice thought, the pale lips of its host's body curling up in a wicked smile matched only by the crease of its crimson eyes, ' _Their petty struggles do not matter any longer, now their strength might be put to a far better use.'_ Though far away in reality, and far out of touch with those he hunted, the old, haunted, voice could still see his prey, if only through the eyes of their hunters. It was an imperfect system, but one that would suffice for the moment. After all, they had all the time in the world now, right? At least, that's what the shadows had told him.

The sudden change in Frisk's demeanor did little to soothe Asriel's panic, only the strength in the girl's eyes and Chara's nearness keeping his hands even remotely steady. All the same, the Pwqa didn't move so much as an inch until she all but flipped and rolled out of his arms. Not much he could do to stop her.

"Frisk!", he cried, whirling around and clamping a hand on her unwounded shoulder. Her skin was still clammy, not to mention freezing. " **Hush.** " The word came out of Asriel's mouth even as the sight of so many arrayed against them reached his eyes, and yet it didn't sound entirely like Asriel's voice. It sounded augmented, strengthened, by something that definitely hadn't been there before. "We're family, we're going to fight this together and you don't need to defend either of us anymore."

The glow under Asriel's hand hadn't stopped for more than a moment, but, along with the change in his normally meek voice, it was also now accompanied by a distinct burning scent in the air. Sickeningly, it smelled just a little too much like the scent that had followed the young Pwqa around after he'd been mysteriously seared.

" **Besides.** ", Asriel growled as his voice took a darker turn, his silver eyes filling with an inky crimson, " **It's not like this is going to be much of a problem.** "

Frisk's gaze flicked to the Pwqa, a flutter of unease in her stomach warning her that this was not the same young monster that she'd come to care for. But she refused to believe that he was entirely changed; the consequences of that were too much to contemplate. He was not wholly changed, he couldn't be. Her hand tightened into a fist, her gaze turning back towards the humans that faced them for a brief second before she turned, placing herself right in front of Asriel. Reaching up, she grasped his ears and gently pulled him down until their noses were almost touching. "Don't forget that you're my cinnamon bun… Don't kill anyone." She closed the distance, her lips touching his for the briefest of seconds before she pulled back and turned to face their foes. Then she hunkered forward, four of the spears vanishing from around her as she put the magic to other uses.

She was fast, always had been. That speed was one of her defining features, and had been for a long time… But it wasn't the only one. She'd been told time and again that healing magic suited her. Well, she thought as her leg muscles tightened, this was a form of healing magic, at least.

She took off like a round fired from a gun, the spears surrounding her leaping onto dangerous, potentially deadly trajectories. For all their speed, she kept pace with the weapons, dashing across the intervening distance and passing Chara in a blur of motion. Spears, their bladed heads blunted out of a desire not to harm someone, slammed home with the force of a major-league pitch, launching herself into a flying roundhouse that brought the heel of her foot into contact with one of the swordsmen, her spears impacting the arms and chests of the women with bone-cracking force.

The calm swirl of emotions in Asriel's mind, shockingly calm considering how violent many of the emotions were, was all but stopped dead in that moment, that one, singular, moment when Frisk's lips touched his. It last only the briefest of seconds, barely enough time for his heart to beat twice, yet it brought his entire world to a grinding halt. For that one moment there were no voices in his head; there were no thoughts clamoring for attention, nor was there any color to his once more silver eyes, nor was there even a single, angry, twitch of his clawed hands at these _humans_ that dared harm _**his**_ Frisk. For that one moment, Asriel was at peace.

Then the dam broke, and all the flood waters rushed out as though to consume everything that dared stand in their way.

' _Don't kill anyone?'_ , he thought to himself, dumbly repeating Frisk's sole instruction. The Pwqa's eyes filled in with color as the thought bounced around his head, a bloody amethyst replacing the cool silver as violet flames began to dance along his clawed fingers. ' _I can manage that, right? I won't kill anyone, I'd never kill someone..._ _ **right**_ _?'_ The Prince's eyes twitched in response to the sickening cracks that echoed out from each human Frisk's spears slammed into, his fingers twitching in kind as their violet flames grew longer, and more pointed, along each claw.

' _ **Maybe I'll just take a limb or two instead.**_ '

Asriel shot forward, his feet not quite touching the ground between their line and the group of humans, and skidded across the ground towards the first of the men with blades. The one that stood most in his way didn't realize that he was missing his left arm until the scream leaving his throat forced his eyes to look down. The man next to him, along Asriel's other side, barely dove away from a similar fate, ending up with only a gash along his right side as he landed directly in the path of Frisk's assault. Those men, those twisted men, though, were not Asriel's targets. Those that had most gained his ire were the ones furthest in the back, the ones that, to his mind, were most likely responsible for Frisk's terrible wound.

They would not lose limbs, no, that would be a mercy. ' _ **Perhaps**_ _,'_ said a dark voice in his head, ' _ **Frisk's rules could be suspended for the likes of them.**_ '

Their screams were what drew her attention past that of mere awareness; she knew they were there, but she also knew that Asriel was there, and that despite everything, the Pwqa could handle them well enough. But something in the pitch of the screams, something visceral and basic, drew her gaze… And her horror. Blood from the man without an arm, the man struck by one of the spears she'd intended for a woman's spear arm.

Why was that man missing an arm?

She was moving without realizing it, her purpose clear in her mind. The ground buckled and snapped as something ivory ripped free of the ground, just in time for her fingers to wrap around it and pull it free. Flames ignited in her path, wrapping around the man's stump and cauterizing the wound; he would not die this day. The other, now with a broken sternum to accompany the furrow on his side, only saw a flash of ivory before darkness claimed him. The injury wouldn't bleed out soon; she would get to him later.

' _ **Why let them live?'**_ she wondered, a part of her strangely detached. ' _ **They'll continue to hate, continue to kill… And they are so close to your home. You should clear this whole area of them, for everyone else's safety.'**_ She shook her head sharply, shoving the thought aside. Killing them would only reinforce the world's opinion that the Monsters were a threat.

Even Chara seemed to have grasped that killing them was not the answer; though those he fought boasted many injuries besides those given by Frisk, none would die of their wounds. His daggers bit, but shallowly, more often than not striking with pommel rather than blade.

"Asriel!" She shouted, even as a duo of gunshots shattered her ears, the muzzle flash from the rifles clear in her eyes. Pain traced itself in a line along her left ribs, but she pushed it aside. She couldn't tell if Asriel had been hit, but she didn't stop to check; she couldn't let him reach them first. She had the worst feeling that if he did, they might not survive.

But she was too far behind; even with her speed, she wouldn't make it. The ground bucked under her foot as she stepped forward, and she leaned to counter the forces she knew were coming, the forces she had called into being. The ground seemed to shove under her, throwing her forward and adding to the leap she was already beginning.

She remembered what came next in still-life snapshots, everything happening too fast for her mind to remember it as anything but still frames in a blur of motion. She was passing Asriel, a pearl of scarlet from her side seeming to hover near his cheek in the scene. Then she was horizontal, a cerulean shaft grasped in her left hand, its point buried in the ground. Pain howled in her right foot, but the rifle she was kicking was out of the man's hands. The stranger. Then she was upright again, a blur of ivory smashing into her original shooter's gun, splinters of wood curling through the air.

Then, it was as though she'd been lit on fire, though not a single tongue of flame graced her flesh. Her eyes widened, her mouth opening, but no sound escaped her throat.

" _Every light bears a shadow, Frisk," Sans murmured, watching her. "If I'm gonna train ya, you have to understand that. Nobody can be free of the dark impulses. Even Chara still has 'em, even if they aren't as strong as they apparently brighter the light, the darker the shadow it casts. And you're one bright light, kiddo; just make sure you never give into that darkness. With what I can teach ya… Well, it could be bad. Understand? Good. Okay, so first, visualize…"_

She felt as though she were being struck by Asriel's final attack all over again, every atom of her being erupting into agony all at once. So intense and unexpected was the pain that she couldn't gather her thoughts into a coherent whole, let alone take stock of the situation. It was like every part of her, down to her component particles, were being split in half and dragged apart. Agony sang in the air, hummed in the locked-tight muscles of her entire body… And then, mercifully, it ended, and she fell to her knees, a sobbing gasp leaving her throat.

" **Well, well…"** The voice shocked her for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the incredible coldness of it, as though all human warmth had been drawn from its bearer. " **Isn't this interesting?"** Though her vision still swam, she dragged her eyes upwards, seeking out the voice's owner, dreading what she might find because of the greatest reason the voice was a shock to her.

She looked into dark chocolate eyes, dark brown hair falling messily about a smiling face. The person's skin was well-tanned, and had the occasional scar scattered across their body. Familiar scars, most so small that they couldn't be seen if they weren't pointed out. Like the tiny, puckered scar on her left ear, the result of a brief fascination with earrings that was quickly dismissed. The paper-thin scar on the left shoulder, a near miss from a certain mermaid's spear.

Or the messy, silvery scarring of the right shoulder.

" **I guess there are two of us now, aren't there?"** A cold, perfect copy of Frisk asked, that smile growing slightly larger, sucking all the warmth out of the air around them.

* * *

It wasn't so much the speed with which Frisk acted that surprised Asriel, he'd always known she was unbelievably fast, but more the desperation she carried with her. It was at once shocking, and galling. Why would she seek to save _their_ lives? They were the ones trying to murder _**children**_ , weren't they? Asriel was merely doing his job as the big brother, protecting his siblings from anyone that dare try and hurt them.

No matter his acidic feelings towards the townsfolk, not much thought was able to cross his mind's turbulent waves when the Prince's eyes beheld Frisk falling. With as fast as they were both capable of moving, it was very much as though everything was in slow motion. One second Asriel's feet were barely touching the ground, his claws scraping at blades of grass as his hands twisted fire and will into physical weapons; the next moment his entire body was twisting as he fell forward, falling towards Frisk and just past where she would land. As time seemed to resume Asriel landed heavily on his hip, one arm immediately curling up around Frisk as he scrambled to….to help her? To comfort her? He didn't know what he could do, or if he could even do anything, but he knew he had to try and do something.

It was then that Asriel felt the cold, the moment he touched Frisk, like an all too familiar wave of numb disappointment, anger, flooding through his veins. He knew that feeling, but, for once, his blood did not run cold, it began to boil.

" **You** will **not** have her, you twisted _**freak!**_ ", the Prince shouted as he shoved himself up to face the creature, "You had me, you've had the others, but you will **not** have her unless it's over my, **dead** , _**body.**_ " His eyes flared, burning cerulean as similarly colored flames began to creep over his claws, the power of his split soul beginning to run rampant with his emotions. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep it from flaring further, and even that was a strain. This wasn't going to end well if it went on for long.

Asriel snarled, "You gave me so much, and yet I've come to see what you actually did. You nearly **RUINED** my life for a second time! I've missed _**SO**_ _**MUCH**_ that I cared about, all because of _**YOU!**_ "

For all of the kindness and grace the young Prince had once shown, the venom he directed towards the shadowed form of _another_ Frisk was almost unreal, as though he had thousands upon thousands of years of hatred to let out all in one breath. To say that he was shaking, from anger as well as exertion, would've been an understatement. "I don't care what form you want to take, I'll burn you out of all of them if I have to.", he growled, his eyes darkening to a fierce violet, "I think I'll start with this one." He smiled a sickly, steaming, smile. "Don't worry, ' _master'_ , _**you taught me well, I'll make it slow.**_ "

The Other Frisk's brows rose, skipping back several feet as the Pwqa lunged forward, her lips still caught in that cold, cold smile. "I'm afraid I'm not sure what you're talking about, Asriel," she said, her voice turning his name into a purr. Then she spread her arms, an array of black, black spears forming around her. "But that's not really the matter here. There are more important things to do, aren't there? Such as this…" And the spears leaped forward, shattering the green barrier Frisk tried to throw up and punching through each of the other humans' chests.

It was, perhaps, a mixed blessing that Chara was there; he wasn't quite as fast as frisk, but he was quick on his feet, and his knives were keen; they lashed out, shattering the one spear aimed at the human nearest him… But he could not help the others. Blood jumped free from bodies soon to be corpses, drawing a strangled cry from Frisk.

Other Frisk just smiled that sickly, cold smile. "There," she purred, a majority of the spears that had found their mark shattering like overstressed ice, ruining soft flesh. "It's only fair, don't you think, Asriel?" She turned to one side, strolling slowly towards the single spear that had yet to shatter, which impaled the man whom had shot her- or, rather, the real Frisk- not terribly long ago. "They wanted me- us- dead… Why shouldn't we return the favor?" She reached out to flick the spear, the length of magical construct ringing, dragging a pained wheeze from its sheathe. "This one most of all… You were thinking it too, weren't you, Asriel?"

She turned, resting her hand lightly on the haft of the spear, the man on his back trying hard to scream as it caused the weapon to shift. "I know you were. Just as I was; we caused them no harm, we did nothing to start this. They struck to kill, and they injured me ever so grievously… Why should they be allowed to live when so many others were not? Better people died and yet they should live... " She shook her head.

Then those cold eyes found Asriel's again. "Why don't you come with me, hmm? We can find all these humans and end them properly… Let the people who deserve to survive live, and let scum like this die~ We could do it, you and I. Perhaps not before, you were just so very gentle once upon a time, but now… Whatever you've been through, you are most certainly not the same cinnamon bun~ So what do you say?"

' _What do I say?'_ The question, so simple and innocent, yet so filled with hidden pitfalls and laced with venom as it was, bounced around Asriel's mind like a ball of roiling thunder. His expression had changed little, so filled with unnatural rage as it was, and his stance was unmistakably protective as he stood over Frisk, his eyes, both consumed by violet embers, never once leaving the 'shadow'. What he couldn't get over, even as the man under the shadow's touch wheezed and moaned in pain, was that this creature, this _**thing**_ had the gall to speak to him in such a manner.

It dared to ask him such a question? It dared to _ask_ him to leave Frisk's side, Chara's too? It dared to _ask_ him to stand by _**it**_ and commit wanton murder? He had wanted to kill the townsfolk, yes, but he...he knew there was something wrong with himself, he'd known that since his outburst in the forest. Whatever was wrong with him, he knew being with Frisk would help it, but he also understood the terrible danger that put her in if he were to...go off again.

At that moment? He really didn't care. Not one little bit.

"You...you actually…", the Prince stammered, not quite able to believe his own ears, "You actually think...even for a moment...that I am going to _**ABANDON THEM?!**_ " The snarl that lept from his throat was sudden and violent, so much so that he tasted blood on the back of his tongue, and Asriel's eyes flared with embers that had become full on flames. No longer were they relegated to a color, but, as Frisk and Chara had only heard described by their mother once before, Asriel's eyes had become illuminated by inner flames. The same flames that had scorched his skin but left his home be, the same flames that had caused so much pain and heartache, and the same, violet, flames that would now sear the flesh from the unholy doppelganger's bones. The Crown Prince was done playing games.

Asriel lunged, allowing his inhumanly powerful legs carry him toward the shadowy Frisk. He felt the air rush by his long ears and through his even longer robe, a feeling he'd not had in the Underground. The rest felt the same, though; every dancing step, just as though he was back fighting Frisk all over again, felt the same. A lunge forward here, a twist there, with her skin always _just_ out of reach. Asriel knew he couldn't hit a creature with Frisk's skills, not normally. That, however, was where the similarities ended. Asriel's claws seared with violet flames that cooked the air every time he swiped at the shadowy creature, but, unlike when he had fought the real Frisk, Asriel's flames had begun to burn brighter, hotter, and bolder. They were vibrant, compared to the shadow, and the Prince had no intention of letting it leave intact, let alone alive.

Asriel had grown up, even if only a little, and he was **not** going to let such a paltry imitation besmirch the name of someone so, inarguably, good. ' _I'll die before I let this_ _ **thing**_ _drag me from them again.'_

The funny thing was that he didn't quite remember, _he already had._

Dodging, moving, almost seeming to defy her basic body structure, the shadow of Frisk ducked and weaved, her skin turning scarlet with burns, her scant clothing growing ever more scant with every near miss of the Pwqa's claws, the flames within his palms, his eyes. For several seconds, she simply avoided him, keeping her distance as much as she could with his speed, which was uncomfortably close to her own.

Then his claws scored across her flesh, drawing a ragged scream from her lips, and something in those cold eyes… cracked, fracturing like deep, deep ice. "If you won't join," she hissed, bare feet skittering through a bloody section of street, "Then I'll have to kill you." Her words held an edge that they had lacked before, a distinct sharpness that hadn't been present when she'd spoken to the Pwqa before.

Black spears formed all about her, seven, nine in all, and each leaped for Asriel, aiming for elbows, knees, shoulders, hips, and heart with lethal intent. Almost simultaneously, something flashed in her dark eyes, and a twitch of her right wrist caused the ground beneath him to erupt, char-black bones ripping forth from below as though to impale him…

Only to be intercepted by scarlet-edged bones leaping forward from behind Asriel, the impacts powerful enough when combined that the two different attacks essentially eliminated each-other, slivers and shards of bone spinning through the air.

Behind him, Frisk took an unsteady step forward, the next more confident. Chara stood next to her, new, bruise-black marks under his eyes telling the story; he'd given quite a lot of energy to Frisk. "Nobody hurts my Cinnamon Bun," she said, her butterscotch hues narrowed. "Not even another me."

"Oh, dear," The shadow purred, skipping back several steps. "My, my, my… Are we about to start doing _that_? Despite all our warnings?" Those dark, cold chocolate eyes lit with baleful light. "This is going to get messy~"

* * *

 _Clap clap clap clap clap_ , " _ **Bravo. No, really.**_ "

The sound of calloused hands clapping echoed through the void, a place where morality meant little and time meant even less. Its echoing accompaniment was that of a man's voice, well worn by time and hardship yet no less boyish in its cunning charm. It was the voice of a man that had never, by choice or not, managed to lose something intrinsic about his person, something he'd had since he was very, very, young.

" _What would you have me do, Brandt?_ ", a much harsher, older, voice replied, its owner more thoroughly shadowed by the void's roiling clouds than the first man. " _Would you, perhaps, rather me to involve myself directly? We both know how that would end._ "

The first man hissed in response, his face contorting, for the briefest moment, as though he had tasted something incredibly bitter. " _ **Don't call me that. You know I hate that name.**_ "

The second man smiled, his expression hard and cruel. " _I know, that's why I use it._ "

" _ **Hmph. Bastard.**_ ", the younger man sniffed, " _ **If you won't involve yourself, and you won't help me, then I suppose we must simply wait. Hopefully she hasn't bitten off more than she can chew.**_ "

His companion shot him a glaring look from the dark, his black and scarlet eyes slowly returning to focus on the scene before them. " _Watch your language, Brandt, think of mother._ "

" _ **Fuck off, you know she doesn't care anymore.**_ ", Brandt snapped, " _ **Besides, this is more fun than thinking about mum.**_ "

The battle both men watched was most dire in its seriousness, but, even so, the older man couldn't help but, slowly, smile once more. " _Agreed. If, or when, this ends poorly, so be it, we'll just get to tease your sister mercilessly when she gets back. No skin off my teeth._ "

The man named Brandt grinned, " _ **You just want to sink your fangs into her, don't you? Don't lie, Az.**_ "

" _Me? Lie? Never._ ", the other voice replied, only half serious, " _It would be fun for a night or two, admittedly, but I think I'll let the little dears break her back first. After all, what's a little fun at the expense of those you love?_ _"_

* * *

Asriel's immediate reaction upon feeling the ground erupt under his feet, and the air almost literally tear around him, was to freeze solid, a wave of what he felt was uncharacteristic fear overtaking him. It was a cold and alien feeling that crept up his spine even as the real Frisk, _his_ Frisk, defended him, a feeling of complete helplessness that almost made him gag.

Then the fear left him, burned away by the sheer confidence that flowed through Frisk's voice, and it was replaced by a far stronger emotion. Sheer, overwhelming, hatred.

Asriel hated this other Frisk. He hated her, _it_ , with so thorough a passion that his eyes flared with violet flames and he didn't even notice that he was snarling until he felt his teeth scrape along one another. The Pwqa's teeth had changed, flatter and shorter teeth growing along with the rest of his body until the flat teeth that remained were joined by long, sharp, incisors. He no longer looked like the harmless, long-eared, Prince of monsters, but more like an **actual** monster.

Asriel didn't even realize it, a part of him was even afraid of the hatred he was feeling, but he didn't just want to remove this abhorrent creature from his sight, he wanted blood. He wanted to feel it on his fur, and he wanted to taste it as it trickled down his throat.

The Prince wondered, his burning eyes focused on the shadow, ' _I wonder if she still bleeds.'_

His physical voice was far, far, less calm. No words left his mouth, his voice instead consumed by an animalistic cry, a feral sound that was so filled with his unhinged emotions that the world around them responded.

As Asriel leapt forward, power flowing from him like a freshly broken dam, the wind whipped up, the air warmed, and the sky darkened for a single second with a flash of darkness so intense it seemed to blot out the sun. Black lightning that left a faint, violet, trail through the greying clouds. Asriel himself seemed unbothered by the effect of his rage, his focus purely on the shadowed version of Frisk, and he was all too, blindly, confident in his power; power that he didn't even fully understand.

It was power that, to any observer, threatened to consume him, deep purple flames fully engulfing his left hand, rather than both. This time, however, it did not burn him, like it had so long in the past. The flames built, grew in their beautiful, terrible, intensity, and began to grow more solid. By the time he'd taken three long strides, the transformation was complete.

By the time Asriel reached the shadow copy of the woman he loved, he was bringing down a violet-white crystalline blade at her head for the first time since she'd saved him from himself so long ago.

Her lips curling into a cruel smile, the shadow Frisk flicked her wrist, bones erupting from underneath the Pwqa, crashing into his blade and knocking it upwards, a pitch-colored spear forming in her hand. She leaped back, the spear snapping up to knock away a pair of scarlet twins from her light counterpart. Then she planted the butt of the spear, gaining her feet once again before lunging forward, but even as she moved Frisk circled around Asriel, something ivory in her hand just as when she'd struck against the men with the guns.

The ivory was a bone, a large thigh bone that formed a pale blur as it swung at her shadow's head. A black spear blocked the blow, but the force behind it was enough to send her staggering- just in time for more scarlet-edged bones to erupt from the torn ground at her feet.

She leaped as best she could, her body arching and curling to avoid the worst of the damage, but a near miss drew a line of blood along her cheek…

As well as a twin along Frisk's own.

The girl didn't notice the twin, a mixture of spears and bones forming in the air about her and leaping towards her shadow, intercepted mere feet away by their own black shadows. The impacts were coupled with powerful detonations as well as sprays of bone splinters in all directions. Frisk leaped through this cloud of shrapnel, swinging her bone down like a hammer aimed at her twin's head.

Her shadow batted her aside with relative ease, the butt of her spear smashing into Frisk's side and sending her ten, fifteen feet before crashing to the ground in a tumble. She recovered quickly, to her credit; when the black spears punched into the space where she had lain, she was on her feet, a barrier of scarlet-edged bone protecting her from those that otherwise would have skewered her. Then the bones melted into a viscous white blob before reforming into more bones that leaped through the air at the shadow.

"Come on, come on~" Her shadow cooed, meeting each bone with a dark twin, her lips curled in a smile. "You know that you're not going to beat me with that~ Let's go all out! Or are you afraid of upsetting Asriel?" Her expression was positively cruel. "He's not your cinnamon bun anymore… He's too cruel now, too ready to kill… If anything, even if he chose you just now… By now, after all this, he's mine at heart~"

' _Too cruel?'_ The words rang through Asriel's mind like bolts of lightning, each one riding the razor edge of his control, control that teetered back and forth as though balanced….control that threatened to give out. ' _Ready to kill?'_

' _ **Hers?**_ '

With every previous stroke blocked as easily as the wind batting away a wave, Asriel knew the doppelganger had to be getting tired. Even Frisk, in her absolute prime, couldn't keep up with his speed forever, and he knew full well that he was faster now than he'd ever been before. With how he felt? Hell, the rage that burned in his breast aside, he felt _amazing_. He felt…. **alive** , and the Prince of Monsters wasn't going to squander such a gift, no matter its origin.

Asriel followed through with his last, sweeping, strike, falling hard against his shoulder as the shadow creature's agility left him woefully off balance. He hardly felt the fall, though. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe the literal red, pulsing, sheen that had begun to cover his vision, or maybe it was something else. It didn't matter one way or another, he was going to show this shadowy little shit the definition of cruel.

His clawed hands and feet bringing his short roll to a close, Asriel looked up in time to behold Frisk and her doppelganger trading blows one more time, before finally coming to a halt some feet apart. Good, that was all the space he needed.

The grass around his feet and hands began to wither, the blade of pure energy melting back into his body, and stones rumbled even as steam rose from their cooking surfaces. Every step he took as he stood up seemed labored, yet his face was no more pained or exhausted than it had been when the fight had begun. Asriel stood tall, strong, and decidedly invincible, if only in the way he held himself so defiant, so proud. His eyes, once silver and so twisted as they had become, had begun to soak with snaking tendrils of ink that threatened to consume the beautiful orbs. His eyes had become windows into something, or somewhere, else, a place or thing from which he drew power, and to look upon them was to know the End.

It was this same terrifying, lethal, gaze, however, that drew forth something else from the beyond. Even as a hazy, black, aura of power no man or monster was meant to understand surrounded the Prince, an unpleasant feeling, like lightning crawling up his spine, fell upon his clouded mind.

" _That is quite enough,_ _ **both**_ _of you. "_, a bestial, snarling, echo of Asriel's voice spoke, the very air growing cold as static spread and the Pwqa's throat acted against his will. Then it was gone, as quickly as all such dramatic effects had come, and Asriel, so strong and proud, fell limp.

The Prince hit the ground with no more noise than a churchmouse, his voice silenced and breathing gentle, even his heart beating softly. It was as though all of the strength had been let out of the enraged Pwqa with nothing more than a word, and he lay still on the stones for the newly falling droplets of rain, accompanied as they were by distant strokes of thunder, to soak.

Frisk staggered to a halt, the scarlet-edged bone in her hand halted mid-swing, the mass of ivory that had not yet taken a solid form dispersing without manifesting into a weapon, her eyes on Asriel. "A-Asriel?!"

Her Shadow, too, stared at the Pwqa, but her expression was less shock and more irritation. "Butting in again? You're so boring! We were about to get exciting~" Those cold chocolate-hued eyes flicked towards Frisk, that chill smile returning to her lips. "But I guess I can't kill them yet, can I~? Oh, poor Frisky, unable to see what's coming… Tell you what: If you ever catch me, then I'll give you a hint! For now… Well, I have a body now! After a fashion, at least. I'll see you later, 'sister~' Don't die before we can fight again!"

Frisk growled, her right eye flashing very briefly as she wrenched her right hand skyward. Her shadow giggled as she leaped, the ground erupting beneath her in a veritable sea of scarlet-edged bones. The last Frisk saw of her doppelganger was her cheeky, amused wink before she fell behind the wall of bones. By the time they had dispersed into a fine powder that itself slowly faded, she was gone.

" _Now that I'm here, I'm not leaving so easily," she purred, slipping through the space between instants, moving through space just as a particular Skeleton could. "You two will have to wait your turns, you horrible, horrible monsters~"_

The moment Frisk was certain that her shadow had departed, she leaped for Asriel, dropping to her knees next to him. "Asriel! Are you okay? Asriel?! Answer me, cinnamon bun!"

Somewhere, far distant from the ailing Pwqa and his concerned family, two beings folded their arms almost in unison, one growling in irritation while the other displayed the same unnatural calm that always surrounded him. Asriel himself, however, was far removed from the universe as a whole, his mind barely even recognizing that his body was still alive. He was out, some might have said for good, but only until _she_ spoke.

It was less some metaphysical bond and more that her voice was one he knew all too well; indeed, Frisk's voice had haunted Asriel from the first moment he'd heard it as a tiny, insignificant flower, a shell of his former self. He'd heard it again every time he'd encountered her, Chara always managing to drive her away, and finally they had managed to meet when Asriel's, then demented, brother had tried to kill so many in the Underground. He'd made Chara halt, even if just for a second, and so the flower had been banished. That strength he'd summoned up, however, had given him a body then, the will to live, and….

Asriel couldn't remember. Why couldn't he remember what happened? He knew he'd fought Frisk, he knew he'd hurt her innumerable times, and he knew she'd saved him all the same...yet everything that he remembered felt so very wrong...twisted, even, as though entwined with a thousand other memories that made no sense whatsoever. That was settled then. Asriel couldn't remember, he realized, but he knew the voice that was calling, and he focused all the will he had left on finding it and grabbing hold. He wasn't going to slip away again.

In the physical world, as Frisk tried desperately to wake Asriel from his imposed slumber, there seemed little hope of her attempts working. He motionless, still, and deathly silent, right up until he sat bolt upright and all but threw his upper body's weight against Frisk. An arm flew behind her back and grabbed on, the other one grabbing at a handful of grass as though to steady himself, and Asriel's grip was that of a drowning man holding firm to a rescuer's hand. His eyes weren't even open, his breathing was steady if fast, and his heart was pounding from what seemed exertion alone, but none of that really mattered.

Asriel had grown. The Darkness wasn't going to claim him again.

Frisk, for her part, reacted appropriately to Asriel's abrupt revival; which was to say she choked back a startled squeak and briefly hugged him, before that annoying little (read: huge) part of her mind reminded her that she was the next best thing to naked and he was currently clinging to her like they were hanging out of an airplane and she was the only one with a parachute. This prompted a whole new series of choked-off squeaks that eventually subsided when the stronger (read: less easily mortified) part of her mind pointed out that in all likelihood, the Pwqa probably wasn't even fully aware of his surroundings, then beat that fact home until some part of her personality finally acknowledged this as fact and let up on the 'freak the hell out' button, which then allowed the other part of her personality to let off the 'don't freak the hell out in front of Asriel' button.

Yes. Her mind had its own button for that.

"Asriel?" She asked, her voice showing some small amount of the strain that his abrupt unconsciousness, then reawakening, had put on her. "Are you okay?"

Asriel murmured as though asleep, his voice barely above a whisper, before coughing over Frisk's shoulder. Thankfully, by shock and position Asriel's head was hidden from Frisk's view, so only Chara saw the light flecks of blood coat his white furred lips. He'd pushed himself far, far, beyond his limits.

"I've...been better..", he finally whispered to her ear, a tiny smile creasing his muzzle, "You're a..sight for sore eyes though…never thought I'd get to...apologize.."

Frisk snorted inelegantly, shaking her head. "If you ever take off again, I reserve the right to drag you back by your fluffy tail," she said. "If you can accept that term, then I'll forgive you, okay?"

Chara stepped forward, his posture as much as the bruising under his eyes telling of his exhaustion. He noted the blood, but he didn't say anything, not yet. Instead, he glanced at the one survivor, the rest mere bodies and mulch. "We should leave," he said, his voice curiously rusty. "People won't, uh… Like our being anywhere near this. Assumptions'll be made."

"I need my phone," Frisk said, trying to gently disengage herself. "It has all my camping gear and clothes in it."

As weak as he was, Asriel clung to Frisk as though letting go was a death sentence, only letting go when Chara came more clearly into view for his blurred eyes. When he finally did let her go, the Prince fell gently, but purposefully, to his side, rolling over on his hip and hand to hide the blood from Frisk. He didn't know how badly he was bleeding, or from where, but he could taste it on his teeth. ' _No more magic today...maybe tomorrow too…..maybe ever..'_ , he thought. The groaning of his joints as he came to rest on hands and knees, waiting till Frisk rose and moved away to spit out a glob of bloody saliva, agreed with the thought wholeheartedly.


	12. Chapter X: First Interlude

Frisk grinned as she peeked her head into the room, warm butterscotch eyes catching sight of the sheer number of people in the room. Most were only arriving now, she knew, but a fair number had been with her since the beginning, had even walked with her during her initial travels in the Underground, and the thought that those people were waiting for her to step out onto that stage and speak with them made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. It wasn't that she craved attention, of course; she simply didn't want the tale so far to be one told to only a couple of others.

"You look entirely too happy to be here," Chara murmured in her ear, drawing her attention to him. He was dressed as he had been when first they'd met, with the green-and-yellow sweater, pants and boots. He wasn't armed… but then, why would you come armed to something guaranteed to be peaceful? "Like, way too happy."

"Well, our whole timeline has been careening towards this," Frisk said with a shrug, the black feline ears on her head twitching. Like Chara, she was dressed in her original clothes, regardless of how a-gendered it made her look; the only difference was the button on her left breast, embossed with the image of a cookie. "I mean, kind of. It's not like we're the actual Frisk or Chara. We're, like…"

"The Creator's personification in a medium that allows them to speak with the people joining us on this trip without annoying, long forewords or afterwords." he sighed, folding his arms. "I don't like that we're just tools."

"We're not, though! We have a lot going on when we're not here on this stage! You know that!" Frisk folded her arms, huffing at her counterpart. "Besides, the last chapter wasn't just really, really late, it probably seems kind've overwhelming, too. And this get-together is even later! The people deserve explanations about everything!"

"True, I guess. We're getting paid for this, right?"

"Eight boxes of sixty chocolate bars each for every session you take part in," Frisk said with a nod.  
Chara sighed, then nodded. "Alright, fine. Let's go; our adoring fans await."

Grinning, Frisk wrapped him up in a huge hug, then turned to make her way out onto the stage.

She heard a few mutterings, some excited squealing barely concealed, but by and large it was quiet. She could appreciate that; it came with the territory. When she reached the little microphone stand, she turned and grinned out at the crowd. "Hey, everyone! Yeah, you, sitting there with that screen in the way! You all know me, kind've, but I'll introduce myself, anyway. I'm, uh, call me Cookie Frisk, and today I'm acting as the envoy of Lost Cookie, the initial writer you all started our adventure with. Chara's here with me, to play Cookie's 'evil' side, but right now he's a bit busy ransacking the snack table in back."

"Hey, don't tell them that!" came the distant cry from backstage, drawing a grin from Frisk.

"As you can tell, we're a little different than the Frisk and Chara you're familiar with so far. I'll just explain that real quick: our personalities aren't toned and shaped by the same things as the ones you know from the story. I'm going to be a bit sillier, Chara's going to be a bit less of an outsider, things like that. We're not alone, of course! We have someone here to speak for Whisper, but they're…"

"That's _my_ chocolate, goat-brother! Gerroff!"

"Indisposed," Frisk finished with a smile. "So, first things first, what in the hell happened with the other Me last chapter? Why are there now _three_ Frisks? Alright, let's take me out of the equation and say two. Why are there two? What's that all about?"

Turning, Frisk hummed, striding along the stage slowly. "Well, explaining EVERYTHING would spoil things for you guys, and we don't want to do that. To put it simply, someone tried to kill Frisk with magic. Really, stupid-powerful magic that they'd never used before. Instead of killing her, it split her. The darkest parts of her were given a form, a physicality. Not Chara; he was always his own muffin. But the actual, dark thoughts and impulses that Frisk, being a good muffin, suppresses and ignores, were given a physical form, much in the same way Chara was. You'll see that come back eventually, I'm sure"

"'But, Kitty Frisk,' I hear some of you saying, 'What about the other two? Her siblings? Or, at least, the ones that called her 'sister'? What's the deal there?"

Frisk paused and turned, beginning to cross the stage in the opposite direction. "Honestly? I don't know. I really, honestly don't. That wasn't Cookie's doing, and I'm only hearing from them on this. You'd have to ask Cinnamon Bun for more on that, whenever he stops robbing Chara of his chocolate."

"Drop it, or feel the fury of a thousand Bunnies, Az!"

"Which hasn't happened yet, it seems." Frisk stretched, then strode to the edge of the stage and sat there, a few feet from the closest of those joining her. "So, in order to find out what to say, we had to ask a couple of our 'readers' to tell us what had them most confused so far. One of the things that was asked was what happened to Asriel, how long he was gone, things of that nature."

She paused, her legs halting mid-swing. "I don't know. Like, I know it was a few years from Frisk's point of view; that's rather obvious, isn't it? But Asriel doesn't seem like he's been gone a few years. And honestly, that makes me worry for other Frisk's sake; Her cinnamon bun deserves as easy a life as mine has had since we saved him. If this is the kind've stuff that he has to put up with into adulthood… It stinks."

Sighing, she shook her head. "But since we're connected to our Creator in a way none of the other versions of us is, we're also barred; you won't see us in any of those alternate timeline visions, and we won't be giving your Frisk any info. We can't; we're this story's Deadpool, if we could actually affect the story we'd probably derail the entire story they're working towards."

"Who's Deadpool?" Chara asked, striding onto the stage with a bar of chocolate in-hand.

"A comic-book super-antihero. He's aware of the medium he's in, be it a movie, a TV Show, a book, a game, or a comic strip. Or, in our case, a webstory."

"Neat," the boy said, sitting next to her. "So, where were we?"

"Clearing things up," Frisk said, holding out her hand expectantly. Chara eyed her for several seconds before breaking off a piece of the chocolate bar and handing it to her.

"Right. So, another thing we've been asked," he said, picking up where she left off and turning his cinnamon-colored gaze on the audience, "is just what's going on with some of those italics? Sometimes it seems like a flash-back, but others seems like a completely different reality. What's the deal?" he took a bite of his chocolate, chewing for a second before continuing. "Well, some of them ARE flashbacks, obviously. But others, they're… Hints, I guess I can say. Hints for who, about what? Good questions, but unfortunately, those aren't questions we can answer. We know the answers, mind you; we just literally can't tell you. The Cookie and Whisper have done everything they could to make sure we don't ruin all the secrets for you. And there are a lot."

"We're just here to make sure the important plot points are clear," Frisk agreed, nodding. "After the FusterCluck of that last episode, there're bound to be some questions hanging around."

"FusterCluck?" Chara asked, brow rising. "What the hell're you censoring yourself for?"

"Good manners," Frisk said with a shrug. "I'm supposed to be the good girl, and you're supposed to be the bad boy, and we're supposed to be working towards the same goal. We're like two sides of the same coin."

"That," a stormy-eyed figure rumbled as the curtain flew open, "is _**MY**_ chocolate, Chara."

The tall Monster that strode forth was far from the Asriel everyone had come to know and worry over, his fur striped with silver-gray while his eyes burned like a firestorm on the surface of the moon. "'Sides, you quite literally speak for a chocolate chip cookie, I think you can spare a bar or two."

The Pwqa snorted and straightened his silken vest, shaking his head as he turned to the audience with a sweeping bow. "My apologies, dear readers, for the disruption as much as for the delay. Some of that, admittedly quite a bit at one point, was Whisper's fault, life just went ahead and served him with a big ol' letter of demotivation." Asriel sighed and reached into his vest's pocket, fishing for something. "Still, all should be back on track now, yeah? We can hope so. The boys should be getting more and more out as quickly as life allows."

"And hey," a voice came from behind Chara, almost in his shadow,"if they don't, we just get to _**ZAP**_ them a bit more!" The shadow reared back and, almost on cue, slapped a joy buzzer on either side of his fleshy counterpart's head.

Chara yowled, leaping several feet into the air and spinning in something akin to cat-like flexibility- only to land awkwardly and fall into a tumble. "Dammit, first he wants my chocolate, now you!"

Asriel just sighed, again, and finally pulled out a short stemmed pipe. "Now see, that was just rude, wasn't it? A lot of you, as Frisk mentioned, must be wondering what's up with all of those weird italics and underlines. Lemme tell ya, it's got quite a bit to do with _your_ Asriel, Chara, and Frisk, not being quite as alone in the world as they might seem to be." The Pwqa chewed on the unlit pipe, a tiny puff of smoke rising from his nostrils regardless. "Beyond that, I'd have to recommend that you all give older chapters a looksie as you keep reading, there might just be hidden things of interest, or maybe even hints!"

"Hey, As.", the shadow prodded at Asriel, slipping from Chara's ankles to his as easily as breathing.

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you give them a hint? Something vague to start the fire~", the dark creature grinned.

For a moment the Pwqa was silent, staring with fiery eyes, before he too grinned, "My gods, you _**can**_ be something other than an evil little munchkin. Hah!" With another curl of smoke rising to the ceiling, Asriel turned back and spread his arms wide, all but elbowing his shadowy companion in the process. "In that case, ladies and gentlemen, have a gander back at Chapter Four and see what you can find, something after the first line break but before the second if I recall. Good luck!"

"And don't forget me!", the shadow cried, swarming from Asriel's feet into a towering creature before falling back as nothing more than an inky, misty, flower on the Pwqa's shoulder. "I could be anywhere, anything! And if you're not careful I'll carve your intestines out and feed them to Temmie as pate à la reader~", he crowed with a smile.

"How about we _not_ grind our readers' vital organs into Temmie-food?" Frisk asked with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. "Goodness, you're just in a mood today. Or is it tonight? Yesterday?" She paused, thoughtful, then shook her head. "I suppose it doesn't matter. But, uh... You know you're always…" She grinned, eying the form the shadow had taken. "My best Bud."

"I will literally die if you start that," Chara groaned, tossing a chocolate bar from his pocket at Asriel.

"Not the first time for either of us," Frisk said with a slight shrug. "But, seriously. Okay. Hints are scattered throughout the story at what's coming up, but most of them are really, really subtle. Not the kind of thing you recognize at first, nyeah?"

The stage, and the world around the readers, stuttered and skipped strangely, skittering around. Wincing, Chara covered his eyes, Frisk narrowing her own with a hiss of pain. Once everything had settled, Frisk groaned, shaking her head. "Jeez. And just like that, months disappear. Okay, so you guys deserve to know about this, because as of right now, it's only Cookie speaking. Alongside the real issue of explaining the confusing mess that this story seems to be, there's a second problem. That problem is, simply put, pacing. We, and by we I mean the two of us writers, want to tell a certain story. That story has a number of arcs in it, points of reference. We haven't reached the end of Arc One yet, I promise, so there's a lot to go. But the pacing has felt rushed."

"Maybe you don't feel that way," Chara picked up as Frisk fell quiet. "I mean, look at how long it took us to get this interlude out! But damn it, we don't want to rush the story. But that means doing something neither of us as writers are really capable of, to a huge degree. Slice of Life. We can do mystery, we can do dramatic fights, but neither of us are great at just doing the day-to-day things. This has taken the form of time-skips in the main story, so that the bulk of the writing is combat or tension, big reveals."

"But Cookie doesn't like that," Frisk said with a sigh. "Cookie wants to… Spread things out a little. Get more focus on the cast without their physical well-being directly on the line. Now, if this were a book being written, that would just mean going back and rewriting chapters… but here, that's not exactly an option. You all have already read up to this point. Which means editing that isn't much of an option, no?"

"So we're trying to write a bit more slice-of-life into this next chapter, the one we've been working on off-and-on since we posted the last chapter. Buuuut there's been hang-ups. Demotivation due to working on writing that is incredibly difficult for us to put to paper, for one. Another hang-up is that during the last of July and start of August, Cookie lost his job. Say what you want about his vanity, but he refuses to work in jobs in which serious physical harm is a permanent risk, which means no to working in the lumber mill that is the single largest employer in his area."

Chara smiled wryly as he took over again. "He's been doing odd jobs since then in an attempt to keep the bills paid, but that's drying up as the hotter months fall behind and the weather cools down. Nobody wants someone else to move them if it's not ninety degrees out, you know? Not to mention that after working simple retail for most of his working life, he was seriously out of shape to be moving 300-pound entertainment systems around, second person or no. Which, as of this month, October, has left him in a bit of a bind."

"He still has something like $300 due to him as payment for his last job, but the person paying him has been very slow about sending the money… As in, they haven't yet. There's nothing to be done about that, of course, and it's very possible that pay will never come in. But that makes finding the peace of mind to enter into the story and immerse himself in the way he's used to very, very difficult. And without the Cookie, the Whisper has enough other things to do that no progress would get done."

"It's not all money problems, of course!" Frisk picked up after a moment of silence. "In the end, it's all these things coming together to make progressing Emergence very difficult for Cookie, and though he only knows a fraction of Whisper's problems, there are plenty of things on his plate to make it all an absolute wreck, too."

"So," Chara said, smiling a little. "That's the way-too-real story of the massive delays you've seen. And unfortunately, we can't say that a sudden outpouring of chapters is coming up. Much as cookie would actually enjoy simply writing all day, money needs must be made, and it's not made by writing unless it's good enough to be a book."

"Spoilers," Frisk broke in, "He doesn't feel it is. It's the best he's able to do, but it's not good enough."

Chara just nodded, running a hand through his hair. "That's it. Now, some good news, at least! We can assure you that the next chapter is being worked on, and it will be somewhat slower for those of you who want to see the trio actually communicate outside of fighting for their lives. Hopefully, the quality and length will still be high enough that it will be worth everyone's time, but that's for you guys and girls to decide."

"Right!" Frisk grinned. "Honestly, we had planned on putting this interlude out in June to July, but circumstances… Didn't permit. There's probably more that we could tell you, more to explain and make clear, but without you guys asking us questions either in private or through reviews, we can't really address them. Which, actually, reminds me of one question we got early on that we may as well address in public."

Chara nodded, his own smile lighting up. "Ah, I remember this one! It was 'What the heck is a Pwqa?' Right?"

Frisk nodded. "Right! Well, to put it simply…. Asriel's a Pwqa. A Pwqa is a Goat Monster from the mythology that Undertale is, at least partially, drawn from, and unless our memories are horribly broken, they're also considered royalty amongst the monsters… Though that could just be us inserting belief as fact. They were supposed to be some of the more powerful monsters with a penchant for using fire, though you'd have to research the myths to fact-check us if you want more than that. We may well be completely wrong; it came up as a google search during one of Cookie and Whisper's many calls early on, and was more of an interesting fact that we incorporated than anything highly researched and planned out."

"Another one we get is 'Why is Frisk violent here?'," Chara picked up, folding his arms. "Well, that's a fair question. With the historically violent Chara taking on an active role, and the actual God of Hyperdeath as a traveling companion, why make Frisk a fighter at all? Well… That's a difficult one. Partly, it's because the writer doesn't feel like full pacifism in anything is a good idea. That belief combined with the game character's pacifism made for a weird, ungainly story. But one of the things the game hints that it lets you do, if you're super careful, is beat the monsters by Fighting then giving them mercy when they've had enough fighting. Even if it's not actually possible, that's the style that Cookie ultimately decided to use with this Frisk."

"She hates hurting people," Frisk agreed. "She really, really does hate it. But as per her backstory, which you guys are seeing tiny hints of and will see in its entirety in the second and third arcs, she knows that unlike monsters, Humans can be incredibly violent and, sometimes, won't stop no matter what. One way of dealing with that is to appear overwhelmingly powerful; if beating you seems impossible, they might not start. But she also knows that sometimes, you have to actually fight a human and make them unable to continue to fight to make things safer… And that means that Frisk had to learn to actually fight, instead of just dodging and winking at the monsters suggestively. She learned from two of the most dangerous fighters she knew from the underground, and combined with the power of a Human soul, she became rather dangerous. But as the last chapter hinted, you've only glimpsed her going all out."

"Her goal is to be as powerful as she needs to be, and only do what must be done for each fight. She's succeeded so far, and that means you've only seen what each fight warranted."

Chara patted Frisk's shoulder, humming. "Well, she'll be pushed to her limits and beyond in the coming chapters. Heck, maybe even in the next one! But this is getting way too long for an interlude. So, we're really going to have to back off the stage, alright? If you have questions, send Cookie a PM or E-Mail, or just leave it as a review on the chapter you're curious about! And rest assured, we're going to throw another chapter at you. Take care everyone!"

"And of course," Frisk added with a grin as the rest of the backstage cast made their way off the stage. "Always, always Stay Determined. Good night!"


End file.
